


Deja Vu

by followyourenergy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action & Romance, Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Dreams, Engaged Sam Winchester, F/M, Longing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Lives, Power of Love, canon compliant through s11, powerful female characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-15 23:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 87,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10559764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followyourenergy/pseuds/followyourenergy
Summary: Dean Winchester's life revolved around sacrificing himself to help others - his father, his brother Sam, the world - and he never asked for anything in return.  He had his work, he had Sam, and he had his best friend, Castiel, and he was relatively happy, all things considered.  But things are changing.  Sam is getting married, Cas is around more, and Cas is making him question what he really wants.  A series of increasingly intimate dreams adds to his confusion and leads Dean and Castiel to a being who has information for Cas - that his life has not been as he believed, and the love he holds dear is now threatened by a powerful pair of enemies.  As Castiel learns how to confront his enemies with the most powerful force of all, Dean must face his own feelings about who Cas is, who he loves, and how Dean fits into it all.





	1. Dream a Little Dream (of Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Supernatural characters in this work are the creative property of the Supernatural television series. All other characters are my own. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Dream a Little Dream (of Me)

God, he was adorable, so human and yet _so_ not. _Adorable? Ugh. When did I become such a sap?_ Dean shook his head at his own thoughts and smiled. He studied Castiel’s figure as he stood by the stove, dark lounge pants skimming his hips and white t-shirt flexing with Cas’ movements as he stretched to turn the heat down and again to scramble the eggs in the skillet on the other burner. Cas was listening to music softly on his iPod, a song familiar to them both. Dean couldn’t resist, as the chorus chimed in for the first time, padding over to Cas and slinking his left arm around his waist as he reached for one of the coffee mugs on the counter in front of them.

… _Dean_ …

“Dean, you’re distracting me,” Cas complained.

Dean smirked. “Oh yeah?” He reached over the sizzling bacon and turned off the burners for both pans. “How about now?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Dean…”

“What?” Dean questioned with mock innocence as he turned Castiel around until he was facing him. He pulled him in close and started swaying with him, crooning in his ear, “It was always you, falling for me, now there’s always time…” He sang the last word with a slight lilt and a laugh, slightly off-key.

… _Dean…Castiel…_

“You’re not helping,” Cas said, sternly, but his eyes were warm and affectionate.

“Wasn’t trying to,” Dean smiled, as he leaned in closer, touching Cas’ forehead with his own, holding Cas’ gaze as he forgot about bacon and coffee and everything and everyone else and –

… _Dean…Castiel…_

“What the hell?” Dean muttered as he gasped for breath, waking suddenly from his vivid dream.

As Dean caught his breath, he swore he heard the same song from his dream. It wafted under the crack of his door, along with the mouthwatering smells of greasy bacon and bitter coffee. _It couldn’t be._ He gently slapped his face a few times, testing to make sure he was really awake. He noticed briefly that he was trembling, still lost in how real the dream felt. _Too real,_ he told himself as he grabbed his bathrobe at the end of the bed. He sat for a long moment, rubbing his face in his hands. The scent of the bacon became too much, and his stomach complained and whined until, reluctantly, he pulled himself up and stepped cautiously outside his bedroom.

As Dean approached the kitchen, he noticed where the music originated – not from Cas (of course not), but from Sophie’s iPhone. Sophie and Sam were sitting at the table, papers and files and magazines spread around them, as they talked about – ugh, what else? – wedding plans.

“I really love this one, Sam, don’t you?” Sophie gestured toward her phone.

“I don’t know if it’s really ‘our song,’” Sam replied, but he continued to listen.

Dean glanced at the phone briefly as he went by – _Always_ by some band called Panic! at the Disco. “Who the hell are they?”

“My favorite band. There is more music out there than 70s old man rock,” Sophie shot back at Dean. It was an old argument between the two.

“It’s not old man rock, it’s classic rock!”

“Yeah… classic rock, classic cars… classic is a synonym for old.”

“Says you.”

“Ooh, good one.”

“Shaddap,” Dean groans, but stops abruptly when he turns toward the sounds of cooking in the kitchen, realizing that someone was cooking – and it wasn’t Sam or Sophie.

Cas stood at the stove. He wore his usual dark suit pants, but instead of his layers of shirt, suit coat, and trench coat, he wore a simple, fitted white t-shirt, which Dean had never seen before. The shirt had black angel wings winding from the back around to his hips. Not that Dean noticed.

“What’s with the shirt, Cas? And the… cooking?” Dean croaked as he walked to where he saw two mugs on the counter. Clearly he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. He sounded ridiculous.

Cas responded without looking back. “Sophie bought me the shirt…”

“Because you guys don’t get him any other clothes and it reminded me of him! Isn’t it cool?” Sophie interjected from the table.

“…and she has taught me how to cook a little. They were busy and I was trying to be considerate.” Dean nodded, but he was only half-listening. He was desperate for coffee. Cas moved in front of the mugs, busying himself with something on the counter, and Dean couldn’t get the mug he was reaching for. Every time he moved, Cas moved as well, and he found himself reaching around Cas, too close for comfort. Cas stopped and peered at him, puzzled.

“What are you doing?”

Sheepishly, then more forcefully, Dean answered, “I’m trying to get around you, but you keep getting in the way.” He attempted to reach around him again for the mug. Cas blocked him and locked eyes with Dean.

Cas arched his brow and spoke slowly in a low, gravelly voice, “Well, since I was here first and I’m still working in this area, wouldn’t it be you who is in the way?”

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. Now it felt like a challenge. He tried reaching for the mug one more time. Cas caught his shoulder, placed his other hand on Dean’s hip, and walked him ( _oh God this feels like dancing_ ) backwards to the coffeemaker. Cas spoke low and slow, not taking his eyes off Dean’s. “Your cup is here. I didn’t pour it because I didn’t want it to get cold. The other two cups have tea steeping in them. For Sam and Sophia.” He grasped Dean’s chin lightly in his hand and turned his face to the coffeemaker and the mug sitting next to it, then turned him back to face Cas. “Okay?” Cas’ mouth upticked slightly.

“Um, yeah, thanks,” Dean muttered as his cheeks flushed (because he didn’t see the coffee or because Cas was so close, he wasn’t sure). Cas released Dean and walked back to the stovetop, grabbing plates from the cabinets for the food that already started to cool. Dean stared after him for a moment, then exhaled sharply as he turned to the coffee and poured himself a generous serving. _Clearly I need it this morning,_ he thought as he shook the cobwebs out of his head and turned to find a seat at the table.

Sam and Sophie had stopped their discussion to watch Dean and Castiel’s interaction and were now watching Dean make his way to the table. Sam’s eyebrows were raised, catching and lifting some of the shorter hairs around his face. Sophie had a gleeful grin and her eyes trained on Dean as he fell into the chair. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Cas laying plates in front of the three of them, then turning to retrieve a mug and fill it with coffee – black, like Dean’s – and returning to the table, picking up Sophie’s phone and eyeing it curiously.

“Why is it important to find ‘your song’?” Cas asked.

It was clearly not what Sam and Sophie wanted to discuss, but Castiel looked at Sophie intently, waiting for an answer. Dean was grateful. He really did not want to talk about what just happened between him and Cas. It was a weird sort of déjà vu thing. He didn’t think he could explain it, nor did he want to, especially since he’d have to explain his dream, and he sure as hell didn’t want to explain _that._

“Because it’s romantic, Cas,” Sophie explained as Dean rolled his eyes.

“As if you have an ounce of romance in you,” Dean scoffed. Sophie sneered at him and tossed her balled-up napkin at his face.

“Okay, children,” Sam smiled as he reached across the table for Sophie’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.

Castiel didn’t look like he understood any better than he had before his question.

They spent the day shopping for provisions and researching local cases. By late afternoon, Dean struggled to keep his eyes open. He figured he’d probably had fifteen hours of sleep over the last five days. Between the vamp nest in Salt Lake City, the travel to and from (and the rioting they had to make their way around – who riots in Utah?), and the dreams he kept having, he was bushed. But he sure as hell didn’t want to go to sleep.

“I’m taking a break,” he announced as he walked out to the garage.

There, Dean filled a bucket with water and gathered his supplies: soap, wax, sponges, buffing cloths. He needed something to focus on besides his restless mind, and Baby was it. He hummed along to Journey as he carefully detailed his ’67 Chevy Impala, his pride and joy. Usually, he’d go all Zen on this task, but today his thoughts drifted back to the dreams. What do they mean? Why did he keep having them? At first, all he heard was someone calling his name in the dark. He was by himself and he could never find the voice. Now, they’re getting more detailed, and now they include Cas. Why? This last one was the most unsettling yet. It felt… real. And that felt… well, he wasn’t sure how that felt. Creepy? No. Comforting? Nope, not exactly. Normal? Uh… how would he even know what normal feels like? Desirable? _No. No, of course not. Stop thinking that._

“Hey, I think that spot’s clean,” Sam joked as he watched Dean a few feet away. Dean jumped, startled by the intrusion into his thoughts. “Hey, I made pizza and we’re gonna watch a movie. You in?”

“Yeah, lemme clean this up. Find us a case?”

“Nah, not close by.”

“So, we’ll drive out.”

“Maybe. But not tonight, man. You’re a mess.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“Childish.”

“Bitch.”

“Great comeback, jerk. We’ll be waiting for you.” Sam turned and lumbered back into the house.

 _Bloody hell_ , as Crowley would say. He is really losing it.

After cleaning himself up, Dean sat on the couch to watch the movie. Terminator. A classic. It’s dark, and warm, and he found himself blinking furiously to stay awake. _Can’t sleep. C’mon, you got this._

Dean scooted closer to Cas and pulled the throw around them both, cocooning them in red chenille. He took a pull from his bottle of beer, content to let Cas wrap his arm around him. He snaked his arms around Cas’ waist as he leaned against the slightly shorter angel’s shoulder.

“Do you want to go to bed, Dean? You look exhausted,” Cas whispered into Dean’s sandy hair.

“Come with?” Dean mumbled sleepily.

“Of course,” Cas smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

... _Dean… Castiel… your Castiel…_

Dean woke with a start, drool coating the corner of his mouth and – oh God – Cas’ shoulder. Cas was staring at him, arms to himself and hands holding a book open in midair. Dean had a throw tucked around him – just him, he noticed.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam threw him a smirk as he glanced up from his computer.

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Dude, you need to go to bed. You didn’t even touch your pizza or beer. You were out by the opening credits. The movie’s done.”

“I drank my…” Dean paused as he noticed his beer, untouched, sweating on the coffee table.

“Dude, why am I leaning on you? Why didn’t you push me off?” Dean griped as he pushed himself off and away from Cas, a little too quickly.

Cas turned his head and glanced at him, head slightly cocked and one eyebrow raised curiously. “You’re leaning on me because you slid onto me as you fell asleep, and I didn’t move you because you seemed content. Clearly, you need the sleep. Are you becoming ill? Do you want to go to bed?” Cas frowned in concern.

 _This is like his dream. Shit._ “No! No, I’m fine,” Dean blurted quickly as he practically threw himself off the couch to put some distance between him and Cas.

“Dean, you’re acting weird. I mean, weirder than usual,” Sophie observed as she finished drying the dishes from supper.

“Ha ha. Funny, Soph.”

Before they could start bickering like the pseudo siblings they were, Dean turned to Sam. “Are you sure you haven’t found a case? I’m going stir-crazy here.”

“Dean, we just came back from one. How are you stir-crazy already?”

“I just am.” He grabbed his beer and headed for his bedroom. “I’m gonna find one, even if it’s something I gotta do on my own.”

“It can wait, man. Get some sleep.”

“Sleep is the last thing I need!” Dean barked as he slammed the door.

Sam, Sophie, and Cas looked at each other, the same questioning look on their faces.

“Perhaps I should talk to him,” Cas rumbled as he started to stand.

“Nah, probably not a good idea, sweetie,” Sophie soothed as she sat him down, hand on his shoulder, and flopped herself down next to him. “He’s cranky. He needs to be alone for a while.”

Cas nodded. He knew she was right, of course, but he couldn’t help but be concerned. He could feel the energy of Dean’s soul. It was troubled, stressed, frantic. The longing he usually felt from Dean when his soul burned this kind of energy was stilted. There were no prayers. It left Cas confused and… something else. _Rejected? Maybe._ He pondered why humans had to be so complicated. He worried about Dean. Sophie was leaning into him, head near where his shirt was still slightly damp from Dean’s saliva, her small, soft hand holding his. He wondered whether he should talk to her about it. Her soul was very clear and straightforward. Nothing confusing.

Sam broke him from his reverie. “Hey, check this out,” he started, sitting next to Cas and shoving his computer onto Cas’ legs. The three of them pressed their heads together as they stared at the screen.

Dean leaned against the wall at the head of his bed and pulled his computer onto his lap, ready to sort through page after page of Google searches for the weird and wacky, the strange and nasty. In other words, the kind of work he was used to. Stuff he could wrap his head around. Stuff he could understand. This other stuff, these dreams… that last one on the couch was weird. The voice was there again, more insistent. And it was another déjà vu thing. He woke up and it was like his dream, but it wasn’t. It was him and Cas, again, and it was…intimate…again. He let his thoughts drift back to the warmth, the safety, the…

Okay, he really needed to get laid or something. He couldn’t concentrate.

Dean grabbed his coat and ducked out the door, calling “goin’ out” behind him to anyone who happened to be there. He stopped at the first bar he saw, not even noticing the name or how he got there. _Must’ve had that road hypnosis thing goin’ on,_ he thought as he climbed out.

Dean sat on a cracked vinyl stool at the long, varnished expanse and ordered a beer. The room was dimly lit and smelled like stale ale and desperation. Well, he was desperate, so he guessed that was good enough for him.

A woman approached and sat at the stool next to his. He felt her before he saw her. She was attractive, that much he knew. He didn’t have to see her to know. She had this presence he couldn’t explain. He was filled with want and shame. He knew already he wasn’t good enough to have her.

“Hello.” Her voice is smiling and warm, like an early summer afternoon.

He turned. “Hey there,” he winked, turning on the charm. _What the hell am I doing?_

She reached out her hand but didn’t offer her name. He took it and shook her hand but didn’t offer his name. She was one of those people who wrapped your hand in both of theirs when they shook it. Her hands were warm, soft, and dry.

The woman tilted her head slightly as she regarded him, eyes studying him. Her dark hair fell in loose curls around and beyond her shoulders. He couldn’t tell what color her eyes were in the dark of the bar, but they reflected the light nearby and he found himself unsettled. She gazed at him like he was the most important person in the world.

“So,” she continued, voice low and breathy, “would you take me to your place?”

 _Bold._ “Uh, um,” he stuttered as he cleared his throat. “Yeah.” _This woman is way out of my league._

She slid off the stool effortlessly, like water skimming over rocks in a stream. He noticed she was a bit shorter than him, lithe and toned. The bronze leather jacket and tight blue jeans fit her perfectly. He stared at her as she walked toward the door. She turned, amused, and teased, “Well, are you coming?” as she reached out her hand. He threw some cash next to his untouched beer and quickly closed the distance between them. They were standing outside now, a warm breeze tousling his hair and making hers float behind her like one of those models in the commercials about expensive perfume. The air felt humid around him, making it hard to breathe.

“So? Where to?” the bright-eyed woman asked. She held his gaze as he shifted back and forth.

The more Dean gazed back at her, the more nervous, curious, and unworthy he felt. Sure, he wanted her, but he didn’t really deserve her.

“Actually, um… raincheck?”

She nodded in understanding. “Not quite ready for me yet?”

He turned his head down and stared at the puddle between them. “I want to, but…”

“It’s okay. You’ll be ready for me eventually.” She leaned in close to him, catching his eyes with hers. “Hopefully soon. I think you need me.” She took his phone out of his pocket and added her number to his contacts. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” He started walking away and hoped he wouldn’t regret turning away from this. He stopped suddenly and slowly turned and looked back at her. She hadn’t moved. He made a decision.

Sometime later, at home, he turned away from his new bedmate and collapsed onto his back, sweaty and pulsing with heat. He smiled tenderly as he turned his head. “That was amazing. You really were what I needed all along. I…” Dean was interrupted as his cell rang on the nightstand. “Sorry. One sec.” He grabbed his phone and answered.

“Hello?... You want to talk to… Cas? Um, okayyy.… Hang on.”

Dean turned to his bedmate. “It’s for you.”

__________________

Song referenced in this chapter:

 _Always_ by Panic! at the Disco


	2. Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

Dean woke up damp with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. _Okay, this has to end._ He shoved his laptop from his legs as he kicked the covers off, nearly tripping over them as he flung himself out of his room and toward the voices in the living room area Sophie insisted they had to make (“It’s not a house without a living room, guys”).

“Get out of my dreams!” he yelled, startling all three of them as he pointed to Castiel. Dean was wide-eyed and bow-legged, crouched slightly as he leaned toward them, trying to emphasize his words. Sophie thought he looked a little like that “living in a van down by the river” guy on _Saturday Night Live_ , but decided to keep her snarky comment to herself as she observed the scene.

“What are you talking about?” Cas asked slowly, knitting his brows together.

“My dreams! You’ve been in my head for two weeks now!”

“Dean. I’m not entering your dreams.”

“Dude, I keep seeing you…”

“Dean, he’s been right here,” Sam interrupted, “the whole time you’ve been in your room.”

He turned desperately toward Sam. “No, he couldn’t have been, because…”

“Dean, if you are seeing me in your dreams, it’s nothing I’m doing,” Cas spoke slowly to the side of Dean’s face, as Dean wouldn’t look at him. “I have never entered your dreams unless it was necessary. For safety.”

Dean started to speak, and then stopped. What he said rang true. Cas had never entered his dreams unless he had to, like when he was trying to warn him about the angels. Plus, it didn’t really make sense. Cas was right here and could talk to Dean any time he needed to.

That realization made this a whole lot worse.

“Damn it,” Dean whispered, pulling his hands through his hair roughly and wiping his clammy palms on his jeans. The room was starting to spin. Sophie was closest to Dean and stood up to support him, but he shooed her away. He clutched his head, turned on his heel, and nearly sprinted back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

“I’m losing my mind. This is it. I’m losing it,” Dean muttered, rubbing his face in his hands. He didn’t hear the gentle knock, or the door opening and then closing quietly. He did feel the warm hand on his left shoulder and the mattress dip next to him. He knew who it was, and he didn’t want to speak to him right now. He was way too embarrassed.

“Go away,” Dean spoke into his hands.

“Dean, what’s going on? What are these dreams you’re having?”

“Oh, hell no, Cas, I am not telling you about the dreams I’m having.”

“Why not?”

“Why not? Because they’re _private_ , Cas, private!” Dean gestured wildly with his hands, exasperated. “How many times do we have to discuss this?” He hid behind his hands again.

“I think we’ve only discussed it once, Dean,” Castiel replied calmly, his hand unmoving on Dean’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well, maybe we need to discuss it again.”

Castiel waited a few moments while Dean calmed his breathing. When Cas felt he was receptive, he continued, “It’s not me, Dean, but you may be correct that someone is trying to get your attention.”

Dean slowly lifted his head and faced Cas. “You think, maybe? Like angels or something?”

“Maybe. I haven’t heard anything on angel radio, and I’m not sure why they’d want to speak with you, but perhaps. Was there anything unusual about your dreams?”

Dean huffed. “Uh, you mean besides the fact that you were in most of them? And we were… doing things? And then things like my dreams happen after and I get this weird sense of déjà vu, kind of?”

Castiel pondered it for a minute. “Well, that doesn’t sound typical of an angel. Angels usually show up as themselves in dreams, for the most part, and speak to you directly. What were we doing?”

“Huh?”

“You said we were doing things, Dean. What were we doing?”

“We’re not going there.”

“Dean, it could help to know…”

“How?”

Cas considered this and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just trying to… do research.”

Dean stood and started to pace, already missing the warmth of Cas’ hand on him. He had no idea where to begin or how to explain the _intimacy_ of these dreams. “Uhh… okay, well, in one, I fell asleep on you, and then I woke up in the living room and I was leaning on you.”

“Earlier today.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. He snuck a peek at Cas. Cas’ head was tilted slightly, and his eyes were soft. His full attention was on Dean, but it didn’t feel judgmental.

“Was that all?”

“Uh, well… in another one we” – Dean grimaced and hid his face – “danced. In the kitchen. It was a song I’ve never heard before, but when I woke up it was playing and you were making breakfast. Like in the dream.”

“So I made breakfast. In the dream. And the song was playing. But we didn’t dance today.” Dean looked through his fingers. Cas stood and leaned against the dresser, still watching Dean with that soft gaze, but thinking too. Still not judging though, Dean thought. He uncovered his face.

“Well, I mean not really, but when you pushed me back to the coffeemaker… see, this is what I mean. What happens after the dreams is like the dreams, but not. And then there were others… but these are the more recent ones.”

“And you just had one now? Before you came out and shouted at me?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry.”

Cas shrugged it off, like he shrugged off most indiscretions. Cas was a pretty forgiving guy, all in all. “And what has come true of the last dream?”

“Nothing. Nothing so far. Well, I mean, we are in the bedroom…”

Cas’ head whipped up to face Dean. “We were in your bedroom?”

 _Aw, crap_. “Uh, yeah, but that’s the only similarity. It’s not really the same kind of thing I experienced before.”

“What do you remember?”

Dean tried to figure out what he could tell Cas about the dream. He didn’t want to tell him about the woman he picked up at the bar, and he _sure as hell no way_ was going to tell him about _sleeping with him_.

“You appear flush. Are you okay, Dean?” Cas asked, concerned.

Dean brought his attention back to the room. “Uh, yeah…. Okay, so I don’t remember a lot about the last dream,” he lied, “but someone called my phone wanting to talk to you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. A woman.”

Cas frowned, lost in thought. “I don’t really know what that could mean.” He cradled his face in his right hand and looked at Dean. A small smile crossed Dean’s face as he watched his best friend. He looked… _nope. He doesn’t look like anything. He just looks like Cas. Ugh, I really need to sleep_. His mind kept wandering and trying to betray him.

Cas’ head shot up suddenly. “Your phone did ring earlier. Sam thought it was strange that you didn’t answer it, but Sophie thought you might be sleeping.”

Dean crossed the floor quickly and picked up his phone. One missed call and one voicemail appeared on his screen. He looked at the phone number. No one he recognized. In fact, nothing he recognized.

“What the hell is this?” Dean muttered. Cas strode quickly to Dean’s side, invading Dean’s space as he usually did. They stared at the screen.

“Enochian,” Cas shared as Dean looked at him for any comprehension of the squiggles on his screen. “But a very old form.”

“What’s it say?”

Cas frowned slightly as he translated. “Carwyn.”

“Carwyn? You know anyone by that name?”

Cas stood, transfixed and deep in thought. Several seconds passed before he said, “No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, there’s a voicemail. What do you think? You wanna listen?”

“Yes, Dean. Perhaps it will give us a clue about what is happening to you,” Cas replied. “I’m concerned for you.”

Dean felt a tingly warmth course gently through his body. It happened a lot with Cas. Cas was always concerned about him, always looking out for him, wanting to keep him safe and sound. He couldn’t remember anyone else in his life wanting that for him the way Cas did, couldn’t remember anyone really looking out for him and putting him first. Maybe Sammy, but that was more out of obligation, wasn’t it? Brotherly love and all. Cas chose to. Maybe he hadn’t at first – maybe he was Cas’ “assignment” or “charge” or whatever he had called him so many years ago – but he stuck around long after the apocalypse was over, long after everything. They stuck together through a lot. Even when it seemed like Cas was choosing something else over Dean, it all seemed to come back to Dean somehow. Dean didn’t always know what to make of that, so he tried not to think about it. It was overwhelming.

“Dean? I need your passcode to get to the voicemail.”

“Sorry, uh, yeah,” Dean startled out of his thoughts and dialed in the 4-digit passcode. He navigated into the voicemail system, put the phone on speaker, and hit play.

A high-pitched wailing – not really wailing, but… angel talk? – came through the tiny speaker of the phone. Dean clasped his hands to his ears as he turned to Cas to look for an explanation.

Cas slumped onto the floor, passed out.


	3. Fever

Dean panicked.

“Sam! Sophie! Get in here!” he shouted from the bedroom door. He slid back to Cas’ side on his knees, helplessly watching Castiel. He reached out to cradle his head in his hands and speak to him, but recoiled at how hot his skin was.

Sam and Sophie squeezed through the door together, Sam grunting as Sophie pushed ahead of him to get to Cas. Her medical training took over.

“What’s going on?” Dean yelped.

“He seems to be running a fever. Sam, get me my bag. By the door.” She did a cursory exam, not really knowing what was normal in the case of an angel. Sam quickly returned with her medical bag, bright pink and purple paisley (“So I can find it in the morning before the coffee kicks in,” she once joked) bringing some frivolity to a very dire situation. She dug out the thermometer and glided the metal ball over his forehead.

“That can’t be right,” she muttered, then, “Sam, find me the other thermometer, this one’s busted.” He dug around to find another one. She scanned his fevered skin again, with the same result.

“What is it?” Dean shouted, wide-eyed in concern.

She looked at him seriously, unusual for their relationship. “110 degrees.”

Dean felt the earth fall out beneath him.

“Guys, clear the space around him. We need to strip his clothes and get some cold washcloths on him. If that doesn’t work, we’ll get him into the bathtub. Here, cut his clothes off.” Sophie threw scissors from her bag at Sam and ran to the bathroom. Dean kicked away last night’s pajamas and slid the bed aside while Sam sliced off the familiar dress pants and the unfamiliar new t-shirt. As Sophie returned with the soaking wet towels, Cas started to shake, then convulse violently.

“Damn it, he’s having a seizure! Take these and lay them on him!” Sophie cried as she flung the sopping mess at Dean. She turned to dig into her bag. Dean and Sam laid the cool white cloths all over Castiel’s burning skin.

As Sam and Sophie shifted around Cas, wetting and rewetting washcloths as Cas burned through them and checking his vitals ( _did angels even have vitals?_ Dean wondered), Dean was stuck in a kind of stupor. He’d seen Cas in trouble before – hell, he’d even seen him dead – but it didn’t feel the same as this. This felt strange, otherworldly. It seemed impossible that Cas, an angel, could even have a fever or a seizure. This wasn’t adding up. He wondered how this might be related to his dreams. He hunched over Castiel. He worried. He took Cas’ hand without thinking. The jerky movements of Cas’ body slowed with the touch. Dean thought, perhaps, that Cas really did feel his presence with him. An idea burst into his muddy thoughts.

“Hey. Sam.”

“Kinda busy here, Dean,” Sam replied without looking up.

“Sam!”

Sam moved his eyes to Dean’s face and shouted, “What?”

“African Dream Root! Where is it?”

“Where we always keep it! Why?”

Dean skirted around Sam and out the door, returning a minute later with the root. He slid to the floor on his knees and captured Sam’s attention.

“I think I can get to him. Maybe. It’s a long shot. But Cas thought maybe someone was trying to get to me in these dreams I’ve been having. Maybe they were trying to get to him, too. Or maybe they wanted him all along. Whatever. If I can…”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. Do it,” Sam interrupted Dean. He needed no more explanation. They were on the same page.

Sam helped Dean get the root into his system and promised to watch him as Dean started to slip away. Right before he slipped under, he turned his head to face Cas, who was still convulsing, and grasped his hand, interlocking their fingers. “I’m coming, buddy. Hang on.”


	4. Ripple and Wave

_3 months earlier_

The celebration had been carrying on for a couple of hours, and Dean was feeling a bit of tunnel vision. Sam and Sophie had just announced their engagement, and tonight they were all gathered at her brother’s house to celebrate. _They_ being Sam, Sophie, Cas, Dean, and some of Sophie’s family – her parents, her older brother, and her brother’s wife. Dean was increasingly uncomfortable at all the damn love in the room. He should be happy for them, and he was, of course. He just couldn’t help feeling a little melancholy. Not that he’d ever admit it. He plastered a smile on his face and drank a little more than he should have. He wasn’t drunk, but he kind of wished he was.

Sophie was good for Sam. She was funny, down-to-earth, attractive, and adored Sam. She was a helper – a visiting nurse – and she was smart, and she was so… normal. She annoyed Dean sometimes, because she was merciless with him. She always had something to say, and she brooked no shit from him. He guessed she was sort of good for him, too. She was the kind of woman who cared about others without losing herself. Everyone was taken by her. Even Cas. They spent a lot of easy time together.

The whole hunting thing didn’t seem to bother her. She was open and accepting of Sam and his lifestyle. She asked lots of questions but took everything in stride. They didn’t know her then, but Dean guessed that after her cancer diagnosis and double mastectomy a few years ago, she could take anything that came her way. She was probably right. He glanced up from his beer and saw her laugh, hazel eyes and diamond solitaire sparkling, as she looked up at her fiancé. She was so far gone on Sam that it didn’t matter what he did for a living. And he was gone on her. Sam never looked happier.

Dean stepped away quietly as Sophie’s father launched into a story about her toddler years. Dads always had to share embarrassing stories about their kids. Most dads, anyway, Dean assumed.

Dean walked outside to get some fresh air. Her brother lived near the public access area of a local lake. Dean guessed it was probably more of a pond. Not that he would know, but he thought something about the size of it made it officially a pond rather than a lake. He looked both ways, jogged across the street, and settled onto the small dock the adults used to launch boats and the kids used to launch themselves. The air had cooled from the warm day, but was still plenty comfortable. He dangled his legs over the end of the dock.

Dean sat for a few minutes, contemplating the stars, until he felt the dock shifting beneath him. He knew who was approaching. He could hear the swish of his coat and the click of his sensible shoes on the weathered wood.

“Hello Dean.”

“Hey Cas.” He looked up briefly, then gestured for Cas to join him.

Cas sat as Dean did, dangling his legs and folding his hands, and waited. They sat in companionable silence for a while.

Suddenly, Dean blurted into the stillness, “I never learned how to swim.” He had no idea where that came from or why he was saying it now. Castiel didn’t move or even acknowledge what Dean said, but Dean knew he was listening intently, the way he always did.

Dean stared across the lake and continued. “I remember going to a beach once, with Sammy and my parents. Sammy was really little, must’ve only been 3 months old or something. I remember my mom tried to take me into the water to swim. I was really scared, and I kicked and thrashed and just… threw a fit. But she was really patient, got me to sit down in it. Then my dad came and brought me out further. Looking back, it was probably only to my waist, but it seemed a hell of a lot deeper. He tried to get me to swim. It went okay until I saw something in the water. I started freaking out. He put me down and something touched my leg, and I screamed about monsters and we had to leave. Dude, I was only a toddler, but that sticks out in my mind.” Dean wrung his hands, staring down and twisting the silver ring on his right ring finger. “That was the last beach day. Dad never took us back. Bobby tried when he took us fishing a couple of times, but I wouldn’t swim. I went to a pool party one of those times I was actually in one place long enough to make an acquaintance, but I wouldn’t go in and they dumped me in, clothing and all. I was so pissed I walked the three miles back to the motel soaking wet. Even when I lived with Ben and Lisa all that time, I’d always make an excuse.” He huffed a short, mirthless laugh. “Kind of crazy, huh? I was so scared of monsters in the water, and look what I’ve done with my life. And I still can’t swim. Such a stupid, ordinary thing that everyone else can do, but not me.”

They continued to sit in silence, Dean staring at the water without seeing it, and Castiel breathing gently and looking at the trees across the watery expanse. Dean wondered briefly if he should’ve said anything, wondered if should feel awkward right now, and wondered if he should just get up and leave, but he stayed glued to the spot, because ultimately, he felt safe with Castiel and there was no place else he wanted to be. Cas’ silence wasn’t awkward. It was respectful. Dean noted that even though it didn’t look like he’d moved at all, he could feel the warmth of Cas’ shoulder near his own.

“Do you want to learn to swim?” Cas rumbled, low and soft, his eyes still fixed across the lake.

Dean fumbled with the hem of his shirt. “I can’t learn how to swim at my age, Cas. Kind of pointless now. Not really in the cards for me, I guess. Not like my lifestyle really affords me a lot of leisure time, anyway.”

“I’m not asking about your ability or your life circumstances. Do you _want_ to learn to swim?”

Dean didn’t answer. He frowned as he stared at a loose thread on his faded jeans.

“It’s okay to want something for yourself, Dean.” Cas’ voice was gentle, sincere. “Even if it’s ordinary.”

He plucked at the offending thread. “Yeah, well, I’m not really ordinary, now am I?” He meant it as another self-deprecation, another knock to his fragile sense of self. But Cas, of course, refused to take the bait, and turned it around on him.

“No, Dean, you are not ordinary.” He placed his familiar right hand in its customary place on Dean’s left shoulder, nudging it lightly until Dean lifted his head to meet Cas’ gaze and tiny smile. “You are extraordinary.”

Cas’ nearly whispered words were so heartfelt, so sincere, that it made Dean’s chest ache and his eyes prickle. Dean, acting on years of doubt and suspicion of others’ motives, searched his eyes for any hint of mockery or insincerity, but found none. Not that he expected to. Cas leaned into Dean’s space minutely, shifting his hand slightly and tilting his head as he adjusted to get a better look at Dean.

“It’s okay to want ordinary things, Dean. Even if you haven’t had an ordinary existence.” The corners of Dean’s mouth turned up slightly in response. “It’s okay to want to swim, or to want to sleep in your own bed every night, or to want to…” Cas stilled, making sure he had Dean’s attention as he leaned in, “…to love someone fiercely and completely and have them love you fiercely and completely in return.”

Dean broke their gaze and stared back down at his hands, resting helplessly in his lap, palms upturned as if in surrender or acceptance or prayer. How did Cas do that to him? How did he take a confession about swimming and tear it up, turn it inside out, and shine the floodlight of truth on it? Dean hadn’t realized it, or maybe hadn’t acknowledged it, but yes. He wanted some ordinary in his life. His kind of ordinary, maybe, but yeah. He wanted what Sam seemed to have found and accepted so easily. Sam was always better at keeping a foot out of the insanity that was their lives. He always wanted, somewhere deep inside, to get out, to be normal. Dean was starting to get it. And damn Cas for drawing out of him what he really wanted: a real, honest love that fit in with his life, not a round peg for a square hole (because of course he would be a square hole and not a round one). He shuddered to think of what that really meant, although he thought he knew. It was like that confession he made years ago to the priest when they were looking into a case. He wanted to experience people and feelings differently. That confession was supposed to be fake, or at least superficial. Just like his confession to Cas just now. But it went deeper, and now all he could do was think.

Cas squeezed his shoulder and let go. Dean already missed the grounding that hand provided to him. Cas resumed staring serenely at the lake, listening to the sounds of grasshoppers and frogs chirping, hands once again resting in his lap, but looser than before. Cas didn’t judge him for his jealousy or his vulnerability or his earthly desires. He just accepted him. It was a feeling Dean still wasn’t quite used to. But a quiet warmth that had nothing to do with the summer air filled his bones as he sat with Cas. He quirked a small smile as he turned his head to look at the angel in the trench coat.

“You’re not really an ordinary guy yourself, man,” he teased, then continued hesitantly, quietly, “Do you ever want something ordinary, Cas? Not something to save the world, or something for Heaven, but something just for you?”

Cas turned to face Dean, catching the genuine curiosity and something more in his eyes ( _the windows to the soul_ , Cas thought absently). It made Cas feel flustered to have this much attention, care, and concern directed his way. He was used to being an instrument, a warrior for Heaven or a device for humankind (two humans in particular), but he was not used to another caring so much about him, his essence. Sophie gave him that sort of attention and care, but it didn’t feel quite like this. The human before him, to whom Cas had given so much, wanted to give something back. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew it was a gift he could not bear to refuse.

Cas answered self-consciously, “Yes, I do. There are things…” He paused, then said, “I want to laugh. It’s foolish.”

Dean eyed him thoughtfully, thinking about what being able to laugh really meant to Cas – it meant he could let go all of the control he felt he had to have, all of the rigidity and seriousness he felt he had to possess in the name of protecting others. He wanted to just be.

He nudged the angel’s shoulder. “No, Cas. I don’t think that’s foolish.”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, soul speaking to grace, then turned their heads simultaneously to the stars as a small breeze ruffled their hair and cooled their faces. They stayed that way, no further words spoken or needed, until Sam came to find them.

And a ripple washed through the fabric of the celestial plane and the Lifeforce of the multiverse.

 

_One month earlier_

Cotton was sticking uncomfortably to the backs of Sam and Dean Winchester as Dean pulled the Impala astride the bunker, their home (or as close to home as they’d had a long time). It was only 10:00 Sunday morning, but the day promised to be a sticky, humid mess. Dean glanced at Cas in the rearview mirror. The damn guy was sitting in his trench coat, looking as cool as could be. Dean envied the fact that Cas seemed impervious to fluctuations in the barometer. They’d driven for several hours during the night, anxious to get back to their own beds and away from the filth of their last hunt, a shapeshifter with a nasty attitude who liked to lurk in the sewer system in Omaha.

“Shower, bed, now,” Dean mumbled as he stumbled, zombie-like, into the house. Sam followed suit, stopping to hug and kiss Sophie.

“Ugh, you’re gross, Sam – you’re sticky and you stink,” she teased as she playfully swatted his behind.

Cas followed behind with their bags, since they hadn’t bothered to unpack the car. “Sophia,” he nodded and smiled as he walked through the door.

“What are you, their manservant? Put those down and get over here,” she laughed, jumping into Castiel’s arms. Her exuberance was contagious, and Castiel smiled as he planted her back on the floor.

“At least someone’s in a good mood,” Cas said.

“Well, yeah, I mean, I didn’t go slogging around in muck and I got my full 8 hours, so I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

Cas canted his head. “You’re…”

“Never mind, hon. Come on, I got some new flowers I want to show you!” Sophie grabbed Cas’ coat sleeve in her hand. They shared, among other things, an appreciation for all living things, including plant life. Sophie loved watching Cas’ reverence and awe as he tended to the plants she kept in a little greenhouse Sam had made her. She also loved to shake him up, so while he was busy dividing bulbs she would be busy throwing dirt at him or spraying him with the hose. He tried to look exasperated, but it came off as fond. She considered Cas one of her best friends. She adored his benevolent yet snarky and bad-ass nature, and he adored hers in kind.

Day wore into evening, and the brothers were well-rested. The day had been brutally hot. Dean looked around at the motley crew gathered in the kitchen and made a decision.

“Let’s make some sandwiches and go to the lake. I could use a swim,” he suggested, opening the fridge to survey the contents. He pulled out enough roast beef, mustard, and bread to make several sandwiches, and bumped the refrigerator closed with his hip. Sophie hummed in agreement and stepped by his side, grabbing a knife and cutting board. They made the sandwiches assembly-line style as Sam stared at them – or, specifically, at Dean.

“Since when do you swim… and picnic?” Sam questioned incredulously. He glanced at Cas, who shrugged a shoulder.

“Since I can. What?” Dean peeked up at Sam quickly, just to get a glimpse of his younger brother’s confused face. He smiled to himself.

“But I thought you couldn’t swim?”

“Says who?”

“I don’t know, you just…never did, when we were kids.”

“It’s not like we had a lot of opportunities, Sam.”

“Yeah, but.…” Sam didn’t know what else to say.

“Grab some bottled water and some beer, Sammy.”

The trip to the lake was a little long but otherwise uneventful. Despite the temperatures that day, the beach was deserted when they arrived after 6:00 that evening. The kids had just started school again and most adults had to work the next day, so the lazy days of staying late at the beach were over for most. They took their time laying out old blankets and lugging the coolers to their spot. Dean forgot the towels and had to run back to the car, depositing them toward the end of the dock.

He stole a look at Cas. Cas, who he rarely saw wear anything but his standard tax accountant outfit (or sometimes the Fed threads), was wearing a pair of Dean’s swim trunks and a faded orange t-shirt he got from God-knows-where. He was _barefoot_ , and he didn’t know why that fascinated him so much, but it did. Damn, it did. He shook his head to gather himself.

“Okay, last one in is a rotten egg!” Dean shouted over his shoulder, already running down the length of the dock and diving shallowly, breaking the stillness. He turned to find Sophie landing near him, and Sam and Cas standing on the dock. Sam’s face betrayed his shock. Cas’ face flickered from surprised to something Dean couldn’t quite discern. He folded his arms and tilted his head slightly as he eyed Dean. A small smile played on his lips. He said nothing.

“You guys comin’ or what?” Sophie called, oblivious to what the big deal was.

Sam shook his head slowly. “I actually didn’t think you knew how to swim,” he said as he shrugged and slid himself from the dock into the lake. “Huh. Guess I was wrong.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, won’t be the last,” Dean taunted his brother as he gave him a little shove.

The brothers and Sophie dipped and glided through the cool depths, grateful after the blistering heat of the day. Cas watched them as he watched most humans – with interest, but also with fondness for his little family. He shifted occasionally from left to right, right to left, but continued to oversee the antics of his favorite humans.

“Come on, Cas! What, don’t want to get your wings wet?” Dean teased as he swam up to meet Cas at the edge of the dock.

Cas crouched down and said, quietly, close to Dean’s ear, “I’m proud of you.”

Dean was taken aback. He rarely, if ever, heard those words directed toward him. Dean stumbled along as he blushed, “Well, credit goes to you, man. I wouldn’t have done it without you.”

“I hope you didn’t do this for me,” Cas looked at Dean with a serious expression.

“No, no,” Dean reassured him. “I did it for me. Got a couple of private lessons, then taught myself the rest. But, you know, it was because of our conversation a while back. Thought maybe it was time… you know… to do something for me for once.”

Cas smiled and whispered, “That’s why I’m proud of you. Not because you learned to swim, but because you did something for yourself.” He squeezed Dean’s shoulder once, and then stood back up. Dean felt flustered and warm. He needed to push these weird feelings away, pronto. He turned to Sophie, who was a few feet away clinging onto Sam, and shouted, “Hey, get your BFF to get his angelic ass in the water, would ya? I’m going to dry off and grab a sandwich.” Dean moseyed out of the water, working his way up toward the cooler. Sophie glanced at Dean, who turned and winked at her as he motioned to Cas. She took his cue and started begging Cas to join them, fully absorbing his attention. He glanced down as he tried to convince her that he was better off staying alert and protecting them, and noticed Dean’s towel near his feet, where Dean had dropped the towels when they arrived. He furrowed his brows and frowned as he picked up the towel, wondering why Dean hadn’t come to retrieve it yet, as he said he would. Cas felt the dock vibrate under his feet as he turned to look for Dean.

“Dean, your towel is…” he called before he realized that the reason the dock was vibrating was because Dean was running toward him, full tilt. Dean was all sweat and humor and _determination_ , and before Cas could process what was happening, Dean leapt and threw himself at Cas, arms out and pulling Cas against him, bear-hugging him and hurtling them both several feet away from the dock into the water.

They both popped up, sputtering, and Cas scowled at Dean, but Dean knew he wasn’t angry, because he could see Cas was trying to cover up a smile. Dean smirked and pinched Cas’ cheek. “You should’ve seen the look on your face!” Dean laughed as he tried to coax Cas into the smile he was hiding.

Cas moved his hand and splashed Dean in the face. He smiled then, and his eyes issued a challenge.

“Oh, it’s on,” Dean growled as he cupped his hands, splashing water right back at Cas.

Sam and Sophie watched, transfixed, as Dean and Cas became a furious blur of limbs and water. But what snapped them out of their stupor was a sound they had never heard before. Dean didn’t hear it at first, either, as he was too busy trying to win the water battle. When he heard it, though, he stopped, briefly, and listened.

Cas was laughing. A full-on belly laugh, the kind that makes humans breathless. It was deep and rich and sonorous. It was one of the most beautiful sounds he ever heard. And he’d give anything to keep it going.

Cas stopped splashing, slowing his laugh as he took a breath. He looked up at Dean, who saw the dawning of Cas’ awareness of what he had done and what it meant. Dean grinned widely and, making a split-second decision, pulled Cas to him by his shoulders and uttered low, so only Cas could hear, into his ear, “Cas, the world didn’t fall apart because you let go, okay? Don’t stop doing that. Don’t you dare.” Cas squeezed Dean’s elbow, indicating he understood and that he was grateful.

Dean realized he was probably drawing too much attention to them. He straightened out and turned, calling behind to Cas now, “Okay, you won that round, but now we’re racing to the floating dock out there. On your mark…”

“I’m not ready, Dean!”

“Get set…”

“I’m in!”

“Me too!”

“GO!”

The four of them swam, laughing and jostling each other playfully. Cas won.

A dark figure decided he had news to deliver.

And a wave crashed through the fabric of the celestial plane and the Lifeforce of the multiverse.

 


	5. The Lifeforce

Castiel felt himself pulled onto the dock at the lake. He knew, somehow, that it wasn’t really the lake, that it was a state of mind or some trick, but he couldn’t help but feel the comfort that it provided. The lake was family and freedom and joy and tenderness and _something more_ that Castiel never thought he’d experience.

What did he remember? The bunker, Sam and Sophie, research… Dean, accusing him of entering his dreams. Dreams. He was talking to Dean about his dreams. They wondered if someone was trying to reach Dean through his dreams. He guessed, now, that they were right.

A warm, calming presence surrounded him, and he felt infinite love and gratitude for everything and everyone. He must be in Heaven. His own personal Heaven. But, he was an angel and he didn’t have his own Heaven, so no. Was he kidnapped by a djinn? Yes, he surmised that must be it.

_Castiel_ …

He _felt_ a voice, a presence.

“Castiel."

Cas opened his eyes to a beautiful figure of light, gazing lovingly at him and stroking his cheek.

“Castiel. Finally.”

“Who are you?” He tried to feel defensive, tried to feel wary of this being. He couldn’t. He did, however, have the distinct feeling that he wasn’t allowed to have this joyful presence. Not him.

“Of course you’re allowed this,” the figure said, in answer to his thought. She looked at him with a tinge of sadness and spoke softly, gently. “Ah. As I thought. You don’t remember. Castiel, there are many things you don’t remember. You know me. You don’t know yourself.” She grasped his hands in hers and breathed deeply before continuing. “I can help, but it will be difficult. It will shake your grace to the core. However, I feel, for your safety, the safety of your beloved, and the safety of the world, it is important to endure. I will be with you. Castiel, may I help you remember?”

_My beloved_? He briefly wondered, again, if this should be, could be dangerous. But everything felt so pure, so wonderful, so much like home and family that he didn’t care.

“Yes. Help me remember.”

***

Dean was standing in a gray room. He felt like he was in some sort of turret. The walls curved around him, and though the space was large, he felt overwhelmed with the feeling of being very small and insignificant. He was afraid. He tried to remember why he was there.

“Cas,” he breathed.

Dean’s senses tingled. Something was behind him. He turned 180 degrees, fists at the ready. Instead of a threat to be fought, he faced two identical filing cabinets. They were gray gunmetal, like the room, and one of them was open and glowing an eerie blue. He approached them carefully, hoping there would be some clue. Cas was nowhere in the room. He was alone. Dean reached his hands into the drawer and picked up the glowing thing. It had mass but no shape, and it felt precious and vulnerable and strong all at once. He cradled the thing like a baby held in front of him, gazing at it and trying to make some sense out of it, feeling protective and loving toward it. It grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely.

“Thank you for taking such good care, Dean,” a gentle voice uttered behind him.

Dean turned cautiously, his right hand hovering over the angel blade he carried. He figured it was best to be prepared. He didn’t know too many creatures that entered dreams, and angels seemed most likely, especially if Cas was the target.

A woman, tall, with long coffee curls, stood placidly regarding him. She wore black boots, indigo jeans, and a white, shirred, cowl neck blouse, with a long necklace of stones Dean assumed were sapphires or something like that. Something was hanging from the end, some sort of pendant, he assumed. Her long, bronze leather coat was fitted across her shoulders and narrowed near her waist. Her face was slightly flushed, and her eyes were kind, soft, and compassionate. Dean was attracted and terrified, but managed to find his voice.

“Where’s Cas?” he growled.

“Safe,” she smiled.

“Not good enough.” Dean tried to strengthen his voice but found it lacking.

“Your Castiel has been through quite a bit, but he’s fine. Thanks, in part, to you.” She walked slowly toward him, almost as if she was floating. The closer she got, the stranger Dean felt – breathy, lightheaded, nervous, aroused, afraid.

“Don’t come any closer,” Dean warned as he held up the blade.

“You’re always pushing me away, Dean.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“We are acquainted, but you don’t want to know me. You are afraid to know me.”

“I’m not scared,” Dean rumbled, his voice unsteady. He didn’t realize she had continued to approach until she was standing mere inches away from him. He held the blade to her chest.

“Back off. And tell me where Cas is, now, or I will kill you,” Dean growled. He was sweating, his skin unbearably hot.

She didn’t back off. She stared deeply into his eyes. He felt like she had stripped him bare. He thrust the angel blade toward her. They looked down together.

The angel blade had melted.

Dean tried the demon blade. It melted. The woman flashed a small smile and her eyes looked kind but amused.

Dean pulled out his gun. Metal dripped through his fingers without burning him.

“H-how… what the hell…” Dean sputtered. He tried to step back but couldn’t move.

“Dean,” the woman sighed as she stroked his hair, “please let down your guard for just a moment.” She held his hands in hers, a tender gesture that reminded him of the way his mother held his little hands after he fell in the backyard that one time he could remember.

His voice shook. “Please… just… Cas….” Dean had no idea what else to say. He knew he was begging, but he had no other way. His posturing and weapons and threats didn’t seem to have any effect. All he could do now was hope this woman could show some sort of mercy.

The woman lowered herself and Dean to the floor until they were kneeling in front of each other. She continued to cradle his hands. She spoke so gently it made Dean want to cry, and he was _not_ a dude who cried. Usually. “Dean, your Castiel is safe. I love him very much, and I would not hurt him. A great wrong has been done to him through the centuries that I am trying to rectify. He knows me, but could not remember me, and so in order not to frighten him I reached out to him through you. You were the safest way.”

“Through my dreams,” Dean guessed. “Yeah, you’re the woman in my last dream.”

“Yes, through your dreams. I apologize if they were… unsettling to you.” Her eyes twinkled. “I had to get your attention in the way you understand love the most. Physical expressions of love are the easiest for you to process.”

Dean was confused and nervous. “Uh… love… what?”

She laughed, a musical sound that sent Dean’s stomach reeling. “Dean, do you know who I am yet?”

Dean slowly shook his head no. She cupped his face in her hands.

“My name is Carwyn. I am the Lifeforce of the multiverse.”

He stared at her. “The what?”

Carwyn smiled, “The Lifeforce of the multiverse. Multiverse meaning all of the universes that exist, ever existed, or will exist. Lifeforce meaning the unity and connection that allows living beings to survive. It’s… a complicated concept. Humans would probably summarize it as love.”

Dean had difficulty wrapping his head around that. “So…you’re like a god or something?”

Amused, she quipped, “Not quite. I’m a little more than that.”

Dean lowered his head and stared at the floor. He couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. “So, you’re like God? _The_ God?”

“In essence. We exist together. One cannot exist without the other. He creates. I maintain. He is the beginning and the end. I am the middle.” Carwyn carded her fingers through Dean’s hair. “Do you want me to take you to your Castiel?”

Dean’s head whipped up to face her. “Yes.”

“Come,” Carwyn said as she lifted him back to standing. She turned him and said, “Through there.”

There was a door. Dean knew there hadn’t been a door there before.

“Go,” Carwyn urged. “I will see you again soon.”

Dean ran to the door and tugged it open.

 


	6. The Past I Did Not Know

Dean opened his eyes and became aware of his surroundings – the plain walls, the hard floor, the ceiling he often stared at for hours when he couldn’t sleep. He turned his head and relief washed over his senses as he took in the familiar form beside him.

“Hey Cas,” he croaked. “Are you alright?”

Cas’ eyes danced across Dean’s features as he drank in Dean’s hair, the same color as the wet sand at their lake ( _their lake?_ ), and his skin, which was flushed pink and glistening damp with sweat. As usual, he bypassed these attractive ( _attractive_?) features of his friend and captured his eyes to look at his soul, which burned even more brightly than usual, if a bit chaotically. Cas felt himself swirling in the energy of his favorite soul. It took him a moment to register Dean’s question.

“Hello, Dean. Yes, I’m alright.” Cas shifted his focus to his own body, then back to Dean’s as he frowned and knitted his brows together. “Why are we naked, Dean?”

Dean darted his eyes back and forth between them in horror.

“Sam? What the hell?” Dean shouted as he pulled a blanket down from his bed to cover himself and Cas.

Sam, gathering the wet washcloths scattered around the pair, glanced at them sheepishly and shrugged as Sophie answered for him, “Relax, Romeo. We had to cut your clothes off you. Your fever shot up to 110 degrees, like Cas’. You two had us scared to death. We were two seconds away from calling an ambulance.” She quickly scanned their foreheads with her thermometer and frowned. “You seem fine now, though. Perfectly normal temp.”

Dean turned back to Cas and muttered under his breath for only Cas to hear, “Déjà vu.”

Cas shot him a questioning look. _What_?

Dean looked between them, then spoke with his eyes. _The dreams_.

Cas responded by darting his eyes between the two of them before fixing him with a questioning eyebrow and a smirk. _This is like your dream?_

Dean scowled and smacked his arm. _Shut up._

Sam and Sophie watched with amusement as the two men spoke to each other with glances and glares.

“God, you guys are just like an old married couple,” she grinned as she opened one of Dean’s dresser drawers. She dug around until she found two t-shirts and two pairs of sweatpants. “Here.” She tossed the clothes between them.

Cas picked one of each of the pieces, and copied Dean’s movements as he slid the pants on underneath the blanket and sat up to pull the shirt over his head. Cas almost told Sophie that he could simply repair his clothes, but considered this and thought better of it. Why not wear Dean’s clothes? Clothes were clothes, and he supposed it didn’t _really_ matter whose they were. And, maybe, there was some sort of meaning behind it he didn’t understand, but he didn’t bother to think about it right then.

“So what the hell happened?” Sam pressed as they settled into the living room, coffees in hand.

“Well, apparently I met God’s wife or something,” Dean explained as he rubbed his face and neck. The fatigue was setting in. Sophie and Sam looked at him as if he’d grown an extra head.

“You met Carwyn?” Cas asked.

“Um, yeah, I guess. That’s what she called herself.” He turned to Cas, who was seated opposite him on the couch. “Do you know her? She said some strange stuff but it sounded like she knew you.”

Cas inhaled deeply and sighed heavily. “Yes. I do know her.” A few moments of silence passed as they waited for Cas to continue.

“You wanna enlighten us?” Dean asked.

“Oh. Yes. I apologize. I’m still absorbing it myself.” His voice, usually so steady and sure, trembled slightly. He pressed a hand to his temple and massaged it gently.

Sophie quickly crossed the space between them and inserted herself between Cas and Dean. Her affection for him was evident as she pulled him close to her in a one-arm hug and leaned his head into her shoulder with her free hand, muttering something to him softly that Dean was sure must be something comforting or encouraging. Dean observed this with a pang of _something_ in his chest. Did angels even need that kind of comfort? He was concerned about Cas now, but didn’t know quite how to express it. Sophie had an ease about her when it came to expressing emotion, particularly toward Cas, that Dean just didn’t think he had. He felt inadequate. He didn’t know what to do with that. So, as usual, he buried it. Sam watched the scene unfold quietly and waited.

After a minute, Cas sat upright, Sophie’s hand resting on one of his shoulders, and said, “I’ll tell you what I know, as I understand it.”

Castiel explained that Carwyn was not God’s wife (as he glanced amusedly as Dean), but rather was the Lifeforce.

“As many humans have already figured out, love is indeed what makes the world exist. It is only by virtue of its existence that humans have not snuffed themselves out.”

Sam leaned forward, fascinated. Dean was impatient.

“What’s that have to do with you? Or us?”

“As humans began to populate this Earth, it became the work of the angels to watch over this new creation. Carwyn felt the angels would need guidance about how to do this. We, of course, experienced a form of love – faithfulness, devotion, loyalty – between us at the beginning. I, more than others, I suppose, understood that my brethren would need help with this. Lucifer had been cast out by this time, and our normally peaceful existence was disrupted. Some were resentful, but I felt that these humans were a marvelous creation.” His face took on a cast of reverence and awe. “Carwyn chose me. She felt that I could be a teacher. I thought myself unworthy of that task, too small and insignificant in the face of many other angels or archangels.” He took a deep breath, and Sophie hugged his arm and encouraged him to continue.

“My work was, originally, to simply watch over the events of this universe. Because this was the latest creation and the one in most need, I focused my efforts here. As life unfolded, Carwyn decided that I needed to be more involved. I needed to be an example for the other angels as well as the humans.”

Dean spoke first. “And you knew all this?”

Cas shook his head. “No. I didn’t have any recollection of any of this, I assure you. Carwyn was holding these memories for me and gave them to me while I was out on the floor.”

“Gave them to you? Like how?” Dean questioned, leaning toward Cas and trying to catch his eyes. Cas sensed this and turned his face up to him.

“She inserted them back into me. It was very stressful. She gave them back very slowly at first. My grace thrashed me around thoroughly. Then I felt a surge of strength, outside of myself, that allowed me to finish. It’s difficult to explain, but it was like I was being held somehow.”

Dean nodded. He thought it might’ve been the glowing thing he held earlier, in the gray room.

“So, what happened then? How did you become the example?” Sam asked, enraptured.

“I was sent to Earth, apparently. A few of us were….”

“I thought you guys didn’t spend much time on Earth before the apocalypse stuff?” Sam asked.

“That is what I was programmed to believe. My consciousness was reprogrammed many times.”

The three humans felt sick. Cas continued, “We brought words of hope to those on Earth. I became a teacher of the angels and the humans about the balance of light and dark in us all. But….” Cas stopped and cast his eyes downward.

“What is it, sweetie?” Sophie, who had been quietly listening, finally asked.

Cas faced her, drawing comfort from her soft gaze and encouraging smile. “Some of the humans misunderstood the messages being offered. Free will led to confusion among many. Not being able to see God was disconcerting to humans, who are bound by the senses of their earthly bodies. Some of the angels grew more resentful, because they believed themselves more important and perfect than humans. They saw my teaching as not only a preference for humans over angels, but also as my approval of the dark rather than using the dark as an opportunity for growth and reflection of the tremendous power of forgiveness, acceptance, and love. So now, there are some who want to reverse what I started and take over, so much so that they’ve erased my memories many times. I’m in some sort of danger, as is the world. And, something else…. There’s something else, but Carwyn will not share it with me yet.”

“Why the hell not?” Dean demanded.

“I’m not sure, other than she said that I needed more support because it was the most difficult part.”

“More difficult that learning you’ve been mind-cleansed and you’re in danger?” Dean leaned around Sophie to catch Cas’ eyes. “What could be harder than that?”

“I don’t know,” Cas murmured, worry in his voice, holding Dean’s gaze like a lifeline. Dean swallowed thickly. He was worried for his friend and feeling helpless. So, he did what he usually does in these situations. He got angry.

“Well, how do we know this woman really is who she says she is? If she has info, she shouldn’t be holding back!” He stood and started to pace, running his fingers through his hair.

“I remember her, Dean.”

He spun and pointed toward Cas, “No, you remember what she planted in you. How do you know those are actually your memories? How do we know this isn’t some sort of freaky thing Heaven’s doing to mess with you?”

“It feels real, Dean. I trust her....”

“Of course it feels real!” Dean interrupted. “It’s all felt real! That’s the point! I don’t trust her, Cas. She’s messing with us somehow. She’s going to lull us into some kind of false sense of security, like everything’s going to be fine, then she’s going to yank the rug out!” Dean was practically shouting, but he couldn’t help it. He felt protective of Cas, and though there was a part of him that wanted to believe this woman, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She felt different than the Darkness; the attraction was different and the motivation seemed different, but he couldn’t figure it out. He just knew that he wanted whatever she was offering a little too much. She felt too familiar and yet too out of reach.

Sophie yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Okay, guys. I don’t think we really have any answers here, and frankly, we are all tired and you guys were run through the wringer. I don’t how your fevers got so high without any reason, or how you are standing here perfectly fine now. I’ve never seen anything like it. So, maybe we need to get some rest and try to figure it out tomorrow.” She turned to Sam and teased, “I have to work tomorrow anyway, so it’ll give you something to do while you miss me.” He smiled and kissed her gently. She turned to Cas and gave him a hug, leaning close to his ear as she said, “You okay?” He replied in the affirmative. She turned to Dean and punched him lightly in the shoulder. “You alright, bucko?” He scowled without any malice and swatted her hand away. They walked out of the room, leaving Dean and Cas alone.

Cas turned to Dean, who seemed far away. “Dean, you should get some rest.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he sighed as he leaned over the arm of the couch, bracing himself on it with his hands. “How are you?” he asked the angel.

“I’m fine,” Cas tried to reassure him.

“No, really, Cas.” Dean shot a pointed look at Cas, as if to say _you can’t fool me_.

Cas shrugged a shoulder. “I will be. It’s just a lot. I feel angry that my memories were taken from me, and nervous about what else I don’t know.”

Dean suspected as much. They had known each other a long time, and though he and Sophie were close, Dean felt he knew Cas the best. They didn’t really allow any bull between them. He could tell Cas just about anything, and Dean knew that Cas, from almost the very beginning, trusted him with things he didn’t tell anyone. It was one of the reasons the angels had been pissed at Castiel. He got too close to those in his charge. Apparently it was only one of the many reasons they were ticked at him. Dean couldn’t find it in himself to care about any other angels except Cas. Cas would always be his priority.

“Hey,” Dean nudged Castiel as he plopped himself back on the couch next to him. You wanna watch a movie? I’m kinda wound up. Don’t think I could sleep.”

Cas smiled a small, grateful smile at Dean. Looking at Dean’s red-rimmed eyes, Cas knew he was exhausted, and that he was only doing this so that Cas wouldn’t be alone.

“Yes, Dean, that would be great. You choose.”

Dean slipped a movie into the DVD player and sat back down, a little closer than friends usually do. He clapped Cas on the shoulder and said, “Tomorrow, we’ll figure out what the hell’s going on with all of this. Tonight, we’re watching _Monty Python_.” He gave Cas a reassuring smile, which Cas returned with a little more feeling than usual.

Dean fell asleep within five minutes. Castiel guided his body to lie down on the couch and covered him with a blanket as he finished the movie and spent the remainder of the night entertaining his own thoughts.


	7. Across All Lifetimes

Two days later, they were no closer to answers. Sam was eager and hopeful, Cas was patient and philosophical, Sophie was the cheerleader, and Dean was downright grumpy.

“We don’t even know what we’re looking for,” Dean whined.

“Well, we could try Crowley…”

“No, Sam. We can’t. We don’t know if he knows anything, and we don’t want to encourage him to snoop around, alright? We don’t even know what we’re dealing with.” Dean folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them. “Cas, you got any other theories?”

Cas looked up from the tome he was perusing. “No, unfortunately.”

Sophie walked through the door, returning from work. “Hi, honey, I’m home!” she trilled as she came bouncing down the stairs. She planted a wet kiss on Sam’s cheek. “Any luck?”

A collective groan was uttered by the men.

“Okay, grumpy boys. Sheesh. Have you even eaten?”

Sam and Dean looked up hopefully at her. She shook her head fondly. “Good thing I love you guys,” she said as she turned to walk into the kitchen to start dinner.

“Hello, everyone.”

The four of them swiveled their heads to meet the presence that lit the room in a warm light. Sam and Sophie reached for each other, clasping hands as they regarded Carwyn with awe and delight etched on their faces. Castiel stood and walked to Dean, placing his hand on his shoulder as Dean stood up. His hand pulsed with warmth that grounded Dean as he warily watched Carwyn approach. She strode to Sam and Sophie and captured them together in a loving embrace as she introduced herself. They returned it eagerly. Dean watched, transfixed and bewildered. They didn’t even know her, yet it was like they were under her spell. He wondered if she was some sort of witch.

“So lovely to know you, Samuel and Sophia,” she smiled as she separated from them, one hand still on Sam’s right arm and Sophie’s left. “You have such love for each other. My light sings when it is around you.” They looked at her adoringly.

Carwyn walked gracefully to the end of the couch, turned, and beckoned the four to her with a small flourish of her hand. Sam and Sophie immediately followed. Cas gripped Dean’s arm gently and tugged until he followed him. She invited them to sit, then sat herself down on the coffee table.

“I want to thank you, Sophie, for using your medical knowledge to assist Castiel and Dean when they were speaking with me a few days ago. I want to assure you that they were in no medical danger.”

Sophie found her voice and shyly said, “Well, that’s a relief. I just don’t understand how they could withstand those fevers without damage, um, Lifeforce, um, Ma’am.”

Carwyn smiled at Sophie’s word choice. “Please, it isn’t necessary to use those titles with me. Carwyn is fine. The fevers were actually not fevers at all. They were a reflection of the energy generated by Dean’s soul and Castiel’s grace upon being in my presence. They weren’t caused by any illness and will not be harmful, now or in the future. In fact, if you were to touch them now, you would feel the same heat radiating from them.” Sam, who was sitting next to Dean, touched his neck and felt the heat pouring off him. Dean touched Sam’s in return and felt nothing unusual.

“Wait, but Sam’s not burning up,” Dean pointed out, distrust in his voice.

“No. Sam and Sophie are living the love they feel for others. Love is flowing through them. It isn’t trapped in their souls, the way it is trapped in your life energies – in your soul and in your Castiel’s grace,” Carwyn explained.

“Uh, what?” Dean felt like she was trying to jerk them around, although everyone else seemed to understand. Dean felt like an idiot. He felt his face getting hot with embarrassment.

Carwyn leaned into Dean’s space and placed her hands on his knees. “What I mean is that you feel love in your soul, but you have not expressed that love. So, when your soul senses I am present, it reaches out to me fervently. That is the heat you feel. Love unexpressed makes our light – our life energy -- burn and writhe within us. Love, expressed, is freedom.”

Dean felt like life, yet again, had screwed him over. He didn’t know how to express love. Hell, he didn’t even use the word. Cas touched his arm gently and Dean turned to him. He smiled a small, knowing smile at him. He knew exactly what Dean was thinking. Damn, he felt so naked around Cas. _Okay, maybe that was a bad choice of words._

Cas felt as adrift as Dean. He hadn’t been sure if angels were even capable of the kind of love Carwyn seemed to be talking about. Yet, by her explanation, his grace thrummed with energy, reaching out and trying to find its freedom through expressing a love he didn’t understand. Or at least told himself he didn’t understand. He held Dean’s calming green to his stormy blue, seeking solace in the meadow that green suggested. He rarely took note of Dean’s physical attributes, even though his earthly body was perfectly made, in Castiel’s opinion. However, he usually looked at Dean’s soul, which was more beautiful than any earthly vessel could possibly be. His soul, now, was bright and turbulent, crying and reaching out with longing. It was similar to how he saw it in Hell, except then it was pain and the relief of being rescued, and now it was desire and hope. He was awed and humbled and overwhelmed with something he dared not identify.

When they broke their silent reverie, Carwyn continued, to Castiel, “I’m here to give you the final piece of your memories. These memories are, as I explained to you, the most intense memories. These are the ones that those who are against you do not want you to remember. The situation caused an upheaval that shook the values and assumptions of both Heaven and Earth.”

“That sounds terrifying,” Castiel uttered with wide eyes. Carwyn caressed his cheek.

“Darling,” she said, “it _is_ terrifying and exhausting and frightening. It is exhilarating and joyful and transcendent. It is dirty, gut-wrenching, passionate, and profound. It’s love, my dear.” She studied his perplexed reaction.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel whispered.

“Come,” she replied. She grasped his arms and led him to the armchair near the couch. “Sam, Sophie, please come here.” They approached and she positioned each of them to one of Castiel’s shoulders. She turned back to Dean. He regarded her with guarded curiosity, wondering what she was up to and whether he should go along with it. He quickly tried to think about how he could get the four of them out of there if this went awry.

“Dean. I know you don’t trust me,” she breathed, “but please. This isn’t for me. Your Castiel needs you.”

She kept calling Cas _his_ Castiel. Dean’s Castiel. He wasn’t sure why, and it made him feel uneasy and warm at once. He stood and approached Cas. “What do I have to do?” he asked warily.

“Place your hand here,” she directed, positioning his hand so that the heel was near Cas’ heart and the fingertips brushed against his neck. “I want you to be touching his heart and his throat simultaneously.”

Dean was confused at first, but remembered that Cas had once told him his throat had been sliced in order to get to his grace. He figured that’s what she meant. Why he had to touch his heart, though, Dean wasn’t sure.

“The areas you’re touching are chakras,” she explained. “The heart chakra, where the heel of your hand rests, governs love. The throat chakra, where your fingertips rest, governs communication, specifically of feelings and truth.” _Super_. He wasn’t sure why, but it made him nervous.

Carwyn placed one of her hands on the top of his head (the crown chakra, she had explained, which governed connection to spirituality and bliss) and the other atop Dean’s hand that rested on Castiel.

“Now, you are all here to support Castiel through what will be a taxing recollection. Last time I inserted his memories back into him, his earthly body seized. It was not a true seizure in that there was no electrical interruption in the brain. It was his light’s reaction to the shock, which translated into his earthly body’s reaction,” Carwyn explained. They all nodded.

“Twice, though, he stopped,” Sam mentioned, “or at least slowed down. Before Dean went under with the dream root, he held Cas’ hand and the seizure slowed.” Cas glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye. Dean didn’t meet his gaze. “A few minutes after he fell asleep, it stopped completely, although he was still feverish.”

“Yes, that is correct, Sam,” Carwyn confirmed. “When Dean joined hands with his Castiel, it allowed their life energies to connect. Castiel’s light felt his Dean’s light comfort him, and it was better able to bear the shock to its flow. When Dean was on the other side, in his Castiel’s consciousness, he held the energy of the memories. This provided protection and safety, much like a butterfly in a cocoon, and allowed Castiel’s light to absorb the memories without distress.”

Sam and Sophie turned to each other as Sophie mouthed “wow.” Dean and Cas avoided eye contact, but Cas pressed his calf slightly to Dean’s. Dean didn’t move his leg away.

“Okay. You may see some behavior that surprises or frightens you. I assure you, Castiel is safe. Please, everyone, close your eyes and focus on sending comfort and safety to Castiel.”

“Wait,” Dean interjected. Everyone except Cas looked at him expectantly. Cas focused on staying calm and present, focusing on the hands pressing into him. “Can I, uh, I mean, would it help if I did that again? Holding the memories or whatever?”

Carwyn pressed her lips together in a straight line and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Dean. Thank you for offering. It’s just too much for you to bear alone.”

The mood of the room remained serious as Carwyn began chanting.

At first, nothing of note happened, and Dean began to think this was all a lot of hooey. Then, Cas’ eyes began moving back and forth rapidly under his eyelids, as if he were in the active phase of sleep. His lips parted and he began to pant quietly. His body began the jerky movements they had thought were a seizure. Dean began to panic as Cas started to wail like he was in pain. Carwyn’s chanting grew louder as Cas moaned more forcefully. Sam and Sophie tightened their grips on Cas’ shoulders and leaned into him until their heads were on either side of his face, wrapping him in a hug with their free arms. He thought they might be crying. Dean felt useless as he watched Cas thrash.

“This isn’t working! We’re hurting him! We need to stop!” Dean yelled. He grabbed Carwyn’s shoulder and twisted her around to face him. She continued her chanting as she looked up at him.

_The memories are painful, Dean_ , she explained in a gentle voice he heard only in his head. She never stopped chanting. Dean was stunned and briefly forgot what they were doing as he tried to process the fact that he heard her _in his head._ Cas cried out in agony and they turned their attention back to him.

Dean, unconsciously, placed his free hand on his own heart and throat chakras, angling his left hand awkwardly in some sort of Pledge of Allegiance move they would’ve done in school. He felt a shiver race through him into Cas, and, for a moment, Cas stilled. Dean briefly thought it was over. Then, Cas sat straight up from his slouch, and his eyes flew open and glowed preternaturally. He released a wail Dean had never heard the likes of before, not even when Cas had first tried to speak to him after raising him from Hell. Glass shattered and lights burst as Cas spoke rapidly in a language Dean would never understand. He arched out of the chair and Carwyn removed her hand from Dean’s to wrap one arm around Cas in an embrace. White light filled the bunker in a flash before all was completely silent. No one dared breathe or move. Cas had fallen back into the chair, Carwyn was still leaning over him in the one-armed hold, and Sam and Sophie were still hugging him, though the tears had given way to apprehension. Dean felt the furthest away, although one hand was trapped between Cas’ and Carwyn’s chests.

“Cas?” Dean pulled his hand away and cupped Cas’ face as Carwyn moved aside. “Cas, speak to me, buddy.” Cas didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on some point in the distance. “Cas?”

“He’s integrating,” Carwyn explained.

“He’s catatonic!” Dean yelled through clenched teeth and wheeled on her. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you! Look what you did to him! I swear to God, if he…”

“Dean, settle down,” Sam growled as he held wrestled Dean back. Carwyn approached Dean without a thought to her safety or his anger, calm and warm as a summer night.

With a voice like honey, she spoke, “As I told your Castiel, these were the most intense memories, the ones that those who are against him did not want him to remember. Despite your hesitance to trust me, I will be the one that will allow him to face those who seek to harm him again. I hope that you will be able to accept me. His life – and yours – relies on it.”

Dean was, once again, conflicted. He wanted to believe her, wanted what she seemed to promise in her open gaze, but… but. He thought she might be trouble, thought her presence might be deception. He saw what happened with Cas, and he was afraid, for Cas and for himself.

“Call to me when he has fully integrated,” Carwyn instructed. She waved her hand to repair the damage in the bunker, and she was gone.

It was two days of fretting and standing guard by Cas before he returned to them. Sam and Sophie took turns being near him, watching him carefully. Dean stayed by his side the entire time. Neither Sam nor Sophie commented on it.

It was a late dinner kind of night. Sophie had returned a half hour ago and was preheating the oven for her famous chicken piccata. Sam was making the salad. They spoke quietly and glanced at Dean, who was lying on the couch, and Cas, who was still staring.

“I’m worried about him,” Sam muttered as he concentrated on chopping the mushrooms.

Sophie rubbed his shoulder and leaned her head briefly against it. “I know, babe. Me too. He’ll feel better as soon as Cas is okay.”

“If he’s okay.”

“Sam. He will be,” she assured him, then murmured, “he has to be.”

Dean felt eyes watching him as he was playing absently with his phone. He was running on fumes and he thought maybe he was imagining things, but he could swear… He looked up toward Cas. Cas was looking back at him. He blinked.

Dean was out of his seat in an instant. “Cas? Hey, hey, buddy, we’re right here,” Dean soothed as he approached. He was horrified to see now, as he got closer, that Cas’ eyes were watering. Before he could say anything else, Cas’ face crumbled and he shot out the door.

“Cas? Cas!” Dean shouted as he ran after him. Sam and Sophie stared at the scene. It took a few minutes for them to realize what had happened. Cas was awake. What they didn’t know was whether he was okay.

Dean ran out the door to catch up with Cas. He looked around, trying to find where he went. The sky was dark and the rain fell in sheets across the landscape. His eyes needed to adjust. He couldn’t see a damn thing and it was pissing him off. _Where was Cas?_

_There_. Cas was kneeling on the ground, wailing and fisting his dark hair. Dean ran to him, nearly falling as he slipped in the mud. He was drenched, but didn’t notice as he lowered himself quickly in front of Cas. He seized the angel’s wrists and pulled him up until they were face-to-face, and Dean vowed to himself then and there that whoever had caused this pain was going to die, and he’d be the one to do it. Cas was _sobbing_ , and Dean didn’t even know angels could cry. A heavy ache pounded in his chest and churned in his gut. The helpless feeling chased Dean again as he struggled to figure out what to say next.

Cas quickly filled the space between them with, “Dean, you should get away from me. I’m poison! I bring death!” His broken sobs strangled out the words as he tried again to fall forward and hide his face.

“Hell no, Cas. You tell me what the hell is going on, right now.” Dean’s voice was strained and nearly broken as he ground out the words, leaning into Cas’ space and tugging at his wrists, not letting him avoid Dean’s eyes.

Cas looked at Dean as if Dean should know exactly why Cas was poison. Dean didn’t move, but held his stare as tears mingled with raindrops on both their faces, hot mixing with cold. Dean gently slid his hands under Cas’ and nudged his hands away, replacing Cas’ with his own in Cas’ soaked, dark shocks of hair. Cas slid his hands down until they rested on Dean’s wrists.

“I wasn’t supposed to,” Cas whispered. Dean nodded slightly and silently urged him to continue.

“I was supposed to… be the example… and I… oh God, Dean,” his voice wavered. Dean held his head and made tiny circles in his hair. “I… you should stay away….”

“Not happening, Cas,” he spoke adamantly. “We’re family. Your problems are my problems. So what’s going on?”

When Cas looked into Dean’s resolute face, his breathing stilled. The torrent continued to rain upon them as they each held their breath. He searched Dean’s face for something, anything, that would tell him to turn away, to not drag Dean into this, to keep this his problem, his shame. He tried to find one flicker on Dean’s face to tell him not to give in to the yearning for comfort pealing from his grace. Every time he tried to look away, Dean held him fast. He thought that he could do this on his own, _should_ do this on his own, but… _but_. More than anything, Cas wanted Dean’s comfort and strength. He hated himself as he looked into those eyes he knew were warm and soft and focused on him, and he rasped, “I fell in love, Dean. With a human.”

Dean was still and, though his breath stuttered, he urged him on.

“Dean,” Cas cried, his voice pitching higher and his words tumbling like Dean’s emotions, “I fell in love and they killed my beloved… over and over and over, over so many lifetimes… they _killed_ my beloved… and made me watch… and….”

Cas collapsed in Dean’s arms and Dean pulled him close, rocking and whispering “I’ve got you, I’ve got you” to the angel as the clouds wept with Castiel and Dean.

 


	8. Beloved

The air smelled of Italian spices and lemon, but dinner sat uneaten on the counter while Sophie, Sam, and Carwyn waited for Dean and Cas. When they finally walked in together, waterlogged but dry-eyed, Sam and Sophie jumped from the couch and Sophie ran to envelop Cas in her arms.

“I’m wet,” he said in her ear in his dry, straightforward manner.

“I don’t care,” she said like a petulant child and hugged him tighter. He hugged her back.

Sam pulled Dean aside and leaned in as he said, “Everything okay?”

Dean just shook his head as Sam wrinkled his brow.

The four descended the stairs and joined Carwyn in the living room, Dean eyeing her warily but Castiel accepting and squeezing her hands affectionately. Dean could really hold a grudge. She regarded Dean briefly and sympathetically before saying, “You are upset and need an explanation, and you want to know what we do now.” Dean looked away but nodded once. He turned, taking Cas by the elbow, and was going to get them a change of clothes when he noticed they were completely dry. He squinted back at Carwyn.

She shrugged. “You’re a man of action. You want answers sooner rather than later. I thought it would be easier.” She patted the couch, where she had sat back down. “Sit.”

Sam and Sophie sat on either side of her. Cas sat in the chair that still had his imprint in it from his two days of sitting and staring. Dean folded his arms and stood just to the side of Cas, but between him and Carwyn. And yeah, he knew what he was doing was childish and transparent, but he didn’t care. He looked at her pointedly. She looked back sedately and smiled. He huffed and pouted slightly.

Carwyn began, “When I was in Castiel’s presence in Heaven, I was struck by how much love filled his being. He was the perfect angel to watch over humans. He had such compassion and wonder for them. Castiel seemed to understand the needs of both humans and angels. I felt, more than the other angels, that Castiel’s energy burned brightest when he was helping others, as opposed to battle, although he was a fierce warrior as well. I chose him to bring the message of love, unity, connection, and balance to humans and angels alike. He always thought himself below the task being given to him,” she gave Castiel a knowing smile as he ducked his head shyly, “but I knew he was perfectly imperfect, which was exactly the example they needed. Humans and angels alike.”

“So, what does this mean for Cas? Why are there people after him?” Sam questioned.

“There are beings after him because he lowered himself, in their eyes, which actually elevated him, in the eyes of God.”

Three perplexed pairs of eyes watched and waited for further explanation. Castiel stared at his feet. Carwyn wrapped her fingers around his chin and raised his head. “He fell in love with a human soul,” she explained as she spoke to the others but gazed at Cas, saying _there is no shame_ and _you are special_ and _I love you_ with her eyes. He kept his head up as she turned back to the others. Sam and Sophie’s mouths hung open. Dean, who already knew this, focused his eyes like lasers on her to see what she would say next. He was ready to pounce if she dared say anything negative. Behind the lasers, though, was conflict and, though he wouldn’t admit it, pain.

“Castiel found his light-mate.”

More puzzled looks.

“Angels don’t have souls and humans don’t have grace. Both grace and souls are made of light. They are the energy of life. So, although it is inadequate and difficult to summarize in human language, light-mate seemed like appropriate shorthand to explain the bond between Castiel and his human.”

Sophie looked at Castiel softly and stretched her hand across the space to touch his knee. “You were in love? Oh, honey, what happened?” she asked softly. He glanced up at her briefly, gave her a small smile, and smoothed his hand atop hers, but said nothing. Dean lowered himself to the arm of the chair Cas was sitting in.

“What happened,” Carwyn spoke for Castiel, and her voice hardened, “is that others became jealous and spiteful. Castiel’s love for his human’s soul was absolute and beautiful. It made him experience love in a way that no being had experienced it before, and it gave him a power that was uniquely his. God was pleased and so was I. Castiel’s power was unlike that of any other angels or archangels, and he was poised to have even more power. However, as do many beings when faced with such power, instead of trying to understand and learn they sought revenge and they betrayed Castiel.” Carwyn radiated some sort of golden light into the room, which covered everyone briefly with a blanket of comfort. They sat in silence for a few moments before she continued.

“They slaughtered his human and forced Castiel to watch the murder.”

Gasps flew out of Sophie and Sam, and her hand tightened around Cas’ knee as Carwyn said, “That wasn’t the worst of it.”

She continued, “They erased most of Castiel’s memories, allowing him to keep only what served them. What they didn’t count on was Castiel’s sense of rebelliousness.” Dean smirked proudly at Cas. “They also didn’t count on the reincarnation of that soul into another human. In its next lifetime, Castiel once again found that soul and fell in love, despite not remembering his beloved from before. And so, again, they killed his beloved while he watched and then erased his mind, but he found his light-mate again and continues to find his beloved each of the human soul’s lifetimes.”

“Reincarnation’s a real thing?” Sam asked. Dean threw him an incredulous face, implying the question _that’s what you’re focused on here?_

“For a few souls, yes. Usually it only occurs if the soul has not yet met its purpose. The soul of Castiel’s beloved had not met its purpose. It still has not.”

Sophie straightened simultaneously with Dean, though for different reasons. “So, Cas’ beloved is still out there somewhere?” she asked excitedly. She was a romantic.

“Yes,” Carwyn affirmed.

“So we gotta stop her from getting ganked this time, is that it?” Dean asked. He felt a little out of sorts. He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “So they can live happily ever after or something?”

“Wow, really sensitive, Dean,” Sophie scowled at him.

“But Cas isn’t in love with anyone!” Dean bellowed back at her. “This is ridiculous! Don’t you think we would’ve noticed? Have you seen Cas pining over anyone? He doesn’t even date!” Dean knew he sounded irrational, but it matched his mood.

“How do you know? Have you ever asked him?” she yelled back.

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know, because he’s your friend and you should give a crap what’s going on for him, too, not just you or one of your stupid cases?”

“Oh, I’m sorry if saving people is stupid to you….”

“Stop deflecting from the fact that you don’t bother really getting to know Cas….”

“How the hell would you know?”

“I bet I know more than you do!”

“The dude dragged me out of Hell! I think I know plenty!”

“Dean and Sophie, please,” Cas implored quietly. It was the first time he had spoken since he stood dripping by the door. They shut their mouths immediately.

“Sorry,” they mumbled to him but not each other.

“So that brings us to today,” Carwyn took up the reins again, as if the argument never started. “They are after Castiel and his beloved again. This time, I fear, they will do much worse.”

“Why would they?” Sam, ever logical, asked. “I mean, if I’m getting this right, they get off on punishing Cas, and they seem to have a pattern that hasn’t changed in who knows how long.”

“If the circumstances were the same, Sam, I would agree with you,” Carwyn said. “However, they are not. In all the other lifetimes, there have been factors that haven’t changed. One, Castiel never actually admitted his true feelings to himself. He called his feelings other things – loyalty, compassion, duty, protection – but not love, even though it was truly such. Two, Castiel did not have others who were supportive of him. Three, the bond between Castiel and his beloved was not openly recognized by others, except of course for those who would seek to destroy him. And four, his beloved never actually admitted any feelings either.” She nodded her head at Castiel. “All of those factors are different in this lifetime.”

Castiel watched her, wide-eyed and serious, and swallowed.

“Because of these differences, the forces that would destroy Castiel are feeling more threatened. They fear that he may regain his power and have the strength to fight them and win. And, if Castiel and all of you do this properly, they are right.” Carwyn regarded them each in turn as she let her words sink in. “Thus, I believe they plan to destroy Castiel, his light-mate, and anyone else Castiel loves. And I fear they will destroy the world, if needed. No one will be safe.”

Several minutes passed in silence.

“So who are these asshats?” Dean barked.

“Marou is their leader. She is an angel who thirsts for power. Marou perverts love into a thing of repulsiveness by exploiting and twisting it until it fits her aims.”

Cas continued for Carwyn, memories creeping to the surface. “She did anything she could to attain the power I was gaining. When it became clear that my actions were favorable to God, she tried to seduce me. I refused. I told her that I served God, and I was not interested in her attempt to gain power, nor was I interested in corrupting the Lifeforce. She was angry. And when I became devoted to my light-mate… well, she was furious. She blamed my devotion for a human for her inability to gain what she felt was hers. She was jealous. That’s when she determined she would make me suffer, and… she did. She did.” He fiddled with his hands and grew quiet. Dean regarded him under dark lashes.

“Yes.” Carwyn took the baton. “And, I do believe it was more than power she desired, Castiel.”

He stared at her. She didn’t bother to elaborate.

Carwyn continued, “Many of the angels who followed her have died, but she has a growing following of demons and a few angels who have also since been cast out of Heaven for their efforts to subvert the Lifeforce. And now, of course, she has Jesse Turner. He is her primary partner now.”

“The Antichrist? Shit, he’s part of this, too? Why?” Sam demanded.

“She found him. Despite his efforts to control himself, she seduced him and now he has joined forces with her. He hopes to settle his feelings of differentness by having dominion over humans rather than trying to fit in with them. Power trumps inferiority complex, I suppose,” Carwyn mused. “He may also have feelings for her. He has been very isolated.”

The room grew silent again.

“How do we ‘do this properly’?” Cas breathed. Everyone faced Carwyn expectantly.

“They must be fought with that which they seek to destroy.”

“We have to fight them with _love_? Are you kidding me?” Dean rolled his eyes.

Carwyn fixed a pointed stare at Dean. “No, I am not kidding you.” He held her stare for a moment, but backed off quickly.

“Castiel must do things differently than before. He must harness the power of unity and connection. I will assist you with learning that, Castiel. However, there are things that will be asked of you personally, and of your beloved and your Earthly family. I believe it will be very important to harness not only the energy of this universe, but the energy all of you hold within you, particularly you, Castiel. You will have to release the energy that keeps you burning when you are near me.” She gazed at him meaningfully.

Cas understood what this meant, and he was terrified. He looked away.

“We’ll do everything we can,” Sam said sincerely. Sophie nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Dean?” Carwyn called. “Do I have your cooperation?”

“No,” Dean answered, folding his arms, “but Cas does.”

 


	9. I Can't Lie to You but I Can Lie to Myself

It was 2:35 a.m. when Dean finally rolled out of his bed. In his head, he sang all of the songs he could think of, matched those songs with the artists and albums, tried to count sheep ( _lame_ ), and ended up counting the number of vamps he thinks he’s killed over the years. Nothing lulls him to sleep, and nothing distracts him from the fact that _Cas is in love with someone and has been for literally centuries or millennia or whatever_. You’d think that’s something you’d know about a guy, even if that guy is an older-than-dirt angel who happened to save your sorry ass from Hell. _Especially_ if that guy is the best friend you’ve ever had, and especially if you’ve been through a ton of crap together.

He guessed he couldn’t fault him, exactly. His memory was wiped. But Carwyn made it sound like Cas was already in love again, like, right now. Dean pondered what else she said. He got the part about having others who supported him – that was obviously him, Sam, Sophie, and Mary, his mother, and maybe some of Sophie’s family – but didn’t really get how some bond was recognized by others. To Dean’s knowledge, Cas really didn’t know anyone else, and he never heard anyone around him talk about some sort of bond between Cas and someone else. He supposed he got how his “beloved” or whatever was realizing her feelings, finally ( _geez, only took her how many lifetimes to get how awesome Cas is?_ ). What he really didn’t get, what he kept coming back to, was who this light-mate person was. Did Cas go to see other humans? Did he have other “charges,” as he had once called Sam and Dean? Was that where he went when he disappeared without telling anyone where he was going? Usually he explained himself later, and he never mentioned anyone else, but hell, they weren’t together all of the time (although they were more often, recently). Dean was starting to feel like the wife of an unfaithful partner. Or, maybe _he_ was the one on the side. But really? Was saving someone from Hell really something you did on your off time? He did say God commanded that one. Maybe Dean was just a work assignment. So why stick around? The apocalypse was avoided. They fixed all the messes he and Sam and Cas all made. Cas basically treated the bunker as his home. Ugh. His head was pounding. Beer would probably be a good idea. Well, not a good idea, but the only idea he had at the moment.

Dean shuffled toward the dining area wearing only boxers. He figured no one else would be up. He was wrong.

Cas sat at the table, teacup in hand and honey to the side. Being an angel, he didn’t need to eat or drink anything, but sometimes found himself indulging in little human things. He felt that it helped him understand them better, and that he fit in a little more. Castiel always felt like he had a little trouble fitting in. He was one of the more rebellious angels in his garrison, and apparently was much more rebellious than he thought. Despite Carwyn’s assertion that he was a perfect fit for teaching humans, he felt out of his element. It took him a long time to understand the quirks of humanity, and in particular those of Dean, and of Sam, before he felt like he could “pass,” so to speak. What was most helpful, in his estimation, was the fact that the men eventually accepted Castiel like family. Acceptance was a balm on his battered grace.

With them he found parts of himself he didn’t know existed. He didn’t know, for example, how much he would like a nickname. At first he didn’t realize the significance of it – he thought perhaps Dean just didn’t know how to say his name or didn’t care to – but later he found it was a term of affection, at least the way it fell from Dean’s lips. He remembered hearing it from Lucifer when he was in Cas’ vessel and Cas was pushed aside, resting in the safe space of the bunker’s kitchen in his mind. It was revolting to hear the way he mocked Dean and twisted the nickname through his sneering mouth. He hated the way he had made something so beautiful – Dean’s gift to him – something so vile. Cas also didn’t know the depths to which he could share _himself_. It confused him earlier when Sophie accused Dean of not really knowing Cas. Yes, they didn’t talk a lot about his preferences and whatnot, and Dean never really asked a lot about Cas’ life, but to be fair, there wasn’t much Cas really wanted to talk about, and he always felt like Dean really asked the important things, anyway. Dean could, generally, see right through him, and it made Cas _feel_ things he hadn’t acknowledged before. Angels weren’t widely known for their feelings, and certainly Cas was more reserved than most (or so he thought), but Dean evoked so many nuanced emotions in him that Cas sometimes didn’t know what to do with them. His staring habit was due in part to that. He anchored himself to Dean’s soul to see if he could figure them out.

Dean hesitated before making himself known. Hidden from Cas’ sight, his eyes absorbed what little light was available from the night light over the oven until he could see Cas more clearly. Cas was hunched over the table, chocolate mop disturbed by slender fingers, muscular arms bent at the elbows complementing Dean’s borrowed t-shirt nicely. He looked lost in thought. He always told Cas that it creeped him out when Cas watched him sleep, but Dean could see the appeal of watching someone you _like very much like family_ when it’s soundless and still. Dean contemplated whether he wanted to make Cas aware of his presence or just soak him in.

He admitted freely (to himself and no one else) that he sometimes wanted Cas to himself. Their work sometimes pulled them in different directions, and even when it pulled them in the same direction it was dangerous and exhausting and they were usually with Sam. And he was no dummy, but he wasn’t on par with Sam or Sophie in terms of intelligence, and Cas was the smartest guy he knew. Sure, he picked up a few things from Dean about social cues or pop culture (until Metatron inserted whatever into his brain), but really, they weren’t even from the same planet where that was concerned. Not that they really were from the same planet. Ugh. One of his (many) insecure parts told him that maybe he wasn’t the ideal guy to hang around. It didn’t seem to matter to Cas, though. Cas seemed to like him. He valued those times when Cas told him things in confidence. He valued the times when Cas gave him crap, too, like telling him he dresses like a lumberjack or that he’s going to an early grave not from hunting but from fast food consumption. And lately, he valued the times when he could make Cas laugh. Those were awesome. Maybe Sophie was right about some things, though. Maybe he should make more of an effort to get to know him, like his favorite color or his childhood or something.

“I know you’re out there, Dean.” _Uh oh. Caught._

Cas was toying with the curled tag of the teabag when Dean rounded the corner. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas could see Dean hadn’t bothered to cover himself much. Usually Dean was more modest. Cas assumed he just didn’t expect anyone out here. Although he didn’t need to sleep, Cas usually secluded himself in one of the bedrooms and meditated or prayed or read or just drifted to another place. He was glad Dean was up. He really didn’t want to be alone.

“How’re you doin’?” Dean asked, voice low so as not to wake anyone else.

“Fine.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah,” Cas smiled, matching Dean’s. Dean pulled out the chair Cas had nudged over to him with his foot. Cas studied the faint steam still rising from his mug and murmured, “Can’t hide much from you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t,” Dean gruffed. “Secrets between us aren’t a good thing.” Cas nodded minutely. They both lost themselves in thought over that statement as they remembered the many times that, in fact, had played out in their relationship.

Dean heaved a sigh. “So. Jesse Turner. And this Marou angel chick.”

Castiel kept his eyes trained on his tea. “Yes. The Antichrist and the Fallen Temptress. Quite a pair of foes.”

“Do you remember much about either of them?”

“Well, Jesse only from our interaction with him years ago. I’ve not interacted with him otherwise. Marou I know well, as I explained. She…”

“Know well, like…. _Know well_?” Dean questioned, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, I know her well,” Cas replied and raised his head to meet Dean’s eyes, “I just told you that.”

“Yeah, no, I mean… in the Biblical sense?” He waggled his eyebrows for effect.

Cas rolled his eyes as he understood Dean’s reference. “No, Dean, not like that. You know that,” he said, exasperation in his voice. “Not for her lack of trying. I told you I refused her seduction.”

Dean raised his hands in placation. “Hey, I’m just checking, doing my research. Thought maybe there’d be something you wouldn’t want Carwyn to know.” Cas rolled his eyes again.

Dean spoke hesitantly, not sure whether Cas wanted to continue. “Um… so… why do you think she’s back now?”

Cas frowned. “I suppose because, as Carwyn said, the conditions are different.”

Yeah, those conditions. Cas has apparently acknowledged some sort of feelings of love to himself. And somewhere, this other human has acknowledged some sort of feelings about Cas.

“Huh. Yeah, so...” Dean said, stretching out the words, “about that. Uh….”

Cas looked at him expectantly. Dean decided he didn’t want to know if Cas was really in love with someone, but he needed some sort of information. “Um, do you know where this soul is Carwyn was talking about?”

Cas hesitated, not meeting Dean’s gaze, and answered, “Yes.” He absently ran his index finger up and down the bottle of honey. Dean looked anywhere but there.

He felt like an ass, but a part of him really didn’t want to warn this human of her impending doom – not because he didn’t care, at least in a detached, obligated kind of way, but because he didn’t want her to take Cas away. Selfish, he knew, but since their talk a while back on the dock Dean had been thinking a little more selfishly. Cas had called it “self-consideration” and made it sound like a good thing. He was being jealous, though, and he wasn’t sure why. Cas being in a relationship wouldn’t make them stop being friends. He was being stupid. He should be happy that his friend found his love again – his _light-mate_ , for crying out loud – and he was. In a detached, obligated kind of way. _Damn, what kind of friend am I?_

“So… are you going to track her down and tell her what’s going on?” Dean cringed internally.

Several beats passed before Cas answered faintly, “My light-mate is aware of what is coming.”

They sat in silence as Dean tried to figure out exactly how Castiel’s light-mate already knew.

 


	10. The Power of Love

Too few hours later, Dean shuffled into the kitchen bleary and blue. He knew they had a lot ahead of them, and he wasn’t really sure how to start. Sophie was bouncing around the kitchen, singing some song about avalanches and past lives. She was belting out the chorus using her spatula as a mic. Ugh, morning people. He tried to ignore her as she wrapped an arm around him and continued singing, urging him to sing with her.

“Come on, Dean, sing it with me! _Ships pass in the night, I don’t wanna wait ‘til the next liiife…_ ”

“No.”

“… _One glance and the avalanche drops, one look and my heartbeat stops…_ ”

No way. Not biting. He shrugged her off as he said, “Thanks, Britney, but I need coffee.”

“I’m not singing Britney Spears. I don’t even know any of her songs. Well, maybe one. But she’s not my type. Ooh, there’s my type,” she purred as Sam slid behind her and nuzzled her neck.

Dean thought he was going to be sick.

Cas was at the table, already deep into research. He made two cups of the strong stuff and lowered one down to Cas as he slumped down next to him. Cas lifted it absently to his lips and murmured “thank you, Dean” without breaking his concentration. Dean knew Cas didn’t need to drink coffee or anything else, but was still pleased when Cas accepted it anyway. Dean drank his coffee and willed himself to wake up while he enjoyed the contact of Cas’ shoulder against his as he peered to see what ancient text Cas was reading. Cas shifted the book so Dean could read it more easily but not enough to make Dean break their contact. Cas wondered whether Dean was aware that he was in his personal space. He didn’t bother to mention it.

“So, kids, I have some patients I gotta see until around 3:00, then an appointment at the salon, but I should be back by 5:00 for dinner so we can start planning our offense,” Sophie remarked as she placed plates on the table and reached across to playfully scrub Cas’ hair with her hand. “God, you and your sex hair,” she teased. Castiel tilted his head and quirked his eyebrows.

“I haven’t had sex recently,” Cas retorted.

“Yeah, no kidding. Such a shame, a hot specimen like you,” she mused affectionately, ruffling his hair again. Sam laughed. Dean stared at the bubbles in his coffee like they were telling him the secrets of the universe. He wished they would. “But, maybe soon, once you connect with your beloved!” she trilled.

Cas shifted in his seat and looked back at the book without reading it. “Probably not.”

“And why not? Don’t tell me you don’t deserve it, Castiel Whatever-Your-Middle-Name-Would-Be-If-You-Had-One,” Sophie admonished him gently. “You deserve every good thing there is. Don’t deny yourself. By the sounds of it, you’ve done that for way too long.”

Castiel sighed. “It’s complicated, Sophie.”

“Of course it is, Cas. It’s always complicated in this family,” she joked. “Seriously, though, what’s the problem?”

“I have to protect my beloved, above all. I’m trying to stay objective and not let my feelings interfere with that. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize my light-mate, and I have no assurance that my feelings are reciprocated. In fact, I’m fairly certain they’re not, and I don’t want to lose what I have.” He looked a little resigned.

She hummed at him thoughtfully and tapped her chin. “Well, yes, I can see what you’re saying,” she nodded, “I just think it’s utter bullshit.”

Cas snapped his head up. Sam watched his future wife with amusement and affection. Dean jiggled his leg nervously.

“See, that’s not what Carwyn said,” Sophie continued as she shoveled eggs into her mouth. “She said that one of the things that changed is that your light-mate never admitted their feelings before, which makes me think, duh, obviously now those feelings are being admitted, or at least acknowledged. Which means, hey! You have a chance at working this whole thing out this lifetime. Wouldn’t that be a good thing? I mean, you are supposed to be the example to us all, you know.” She placed her hand on her heart and winked at him. Cas licked his lips and sighed.

Dean bristled as he felt Cas’ guard rise. “Hey, Soph, maybe put the battering ram away on this one for now, huh?” he rumbled. He widened his eyes briefly to emphasize his point. Sophie stood with her empty plate.

“Alright, but this isn’t over,” she said as she plunked her dish and fork in the sink. She grabbed her medical bag and approached Sam for a goodbye kiss.

Dean tried to break the tension in the room. “So, Sophie, what are you making for dinner tonight?” He loved teasing her about gender roles. She knew they’d all be home most of the day and could easily make dinner, as they had before she ever came around.

“I’m making _you_ make dinner,” she pointed at Dean and laughed through her mock outrage as she spun away. Everyone joined in her laughter. Mission accomplished.

The rest of the day was spent researching where Jesse Turner had been holing up all these years as well as Marou’s whereabouts and those of her cronies. By the end of the day, they had little to go on.

“I think we’ll have to do some legwork on this one,” Sam said to his brother. He closed his laptop and stretched. He peeked around before he leaned across the table and said, “How’s Cas doing?”

Dean turned his attention away from his handwritten notes. “He’s, uh, alright I guess.”

Sam eyed him suspiciously. “And you?”

Dean squinted at him and shook his head rapidly. “I’m fine. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“Hmm.”

“It doesn’t!”

“I know it doesn’t,” Sam cooed in a voice that said he definitely knew it did.

“Shut up, it’s fine. Stop staring at me.”

“I’m just trying to help…”

“Only help I need is figuring out how we’re gonna get rid of these guys forever and give Cas some peace.”

“Dean, I know you’re…”

“Sam!” Dean shouted as he flipped his pencil in the air. It clattered onto the floor. “I’m not doing this with you. There is nothing to talk about. We got angels and demons and an antichrist and they’re being dicks and it’s our job to deal with it. That’s what we’re doing. End of story. I’m starting dinner.” He slid his chair back forcefully and stalked to the kitchen.

Sam rubbed his face. God, his brother could be so closed off sometimes. He always knew, but he noticed it even more now that he was with Sophie. Sophie, who had charmed him immediately with her calm and her humor and her kindness and who seemed utterly too good for him, was the opposite of Dean in a lot of ways, but not where it counted. He knew that they rubbed each other the wrong way sometimes because they were so alike and because they cared. They cared so much about him, and Mary, and even about each other. They cared about Cas deeply. Sam saw it expressed way more easily by Sophie, who had no hang-ups about telling others she loved them (or about any other feelings, for that matter) and was freely demonstrative with Cas, who she accepted and “adopted” right away despite his angelic peculiarities. Sam thought she actually was very good for Cas and had taught Cas quite a bit about love, and Cas adored her. Sam couldn’t believe he was the lucky guy who got to marry her. Dean, on the other hand, had such a logjam of emotions Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever break through them. No significant others Dean had so far had broken through, not that he’d had many of those. Sam guessed that his past lovers just couldn’t chip their way through to his core. Dean had a hard time with it himself. He guarded it closely, probably more than necessary. It would take a unique individual to get through to Dean. Sam had questioned him about it before, suggesting that maybe he needed a hunter, someone who understood the life. Dean blew him off. They’d seen other hunters who were able to settle down, and hell, even Sam managed to find someone and had a chance at some sort of normal, at least for him. Sam knew that Dean could find his own normal with someone, but that someone would have to be pretty special – patient and willing to peel the layers slowly.

Sam went to find Cas. He assumed he’d be in the greenhouse area, and he was right. Cas was bent over a pot of pink gerbera daisies, murmuring something. Sam entertained himself by thinking Cas was having a conversation, encouraging the thing to grow. Maybe he was.

“Hey Cas,” he waved as he entered. Cas looked up and returned the wave.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Just wanted to check in on you, see how you’re doing after…everything.” He sat on a potting bench.

Cas caressed the petals between his thumb and index finger. “Well, it’s a bit overwhelming, but I look forward to developing and implementing a plan.”

Sam chuckled. “Spoken like a true general, Cas. That all your training in the garrison?”

Cas returned the chuckle, recognizing the gentle joke Sam was making. “I suppose so.” He paused and his face became serious. “I do want you to know, though, I plan to keep you all out of this as much as possible. It could become very dangerous.”

Sam raised one eyebrow at Cas and shook his head. “Dean won’t go for that, you know.”

“I know.”

Sam took a deep breath. “He’s worried, you know. About you.”

“He said that?”

“Of course not.”

Cas smiled his small, knowing smile. Of course he didn’t say that. That would involve talking about feelings. Cas knew that Dean didn’t like to do that. “I know he is. It’s in his nature to be concerned about those in danger.”

“Yeah, but it’s more in his nature to be concerned about you.” He held Cas’ stare.

“Hey, party people!” called Sophie as she skipped into the greenhouse, oblivious to the serious conversation. She parked an arm around Sam’s shoulders and a kiss on his lips. “Did I interrupt?”

“I was just telling Cas that Dean is worried about him with all of this stuff going on,” Sam explained, wrapping an arm around her waist. Sophie nodded, her exuberance dampened a little.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is,” she agreed. “But listen, we’re going to come up with a plan. He’s a man of action. Do it, don’t talk about it. That’s his motto. It’ll make him feel better to do something.”

Sam and Cas shared a look, and Sophie said, “What?”

Cas stepped closer to her. “I don’t want to put any of you in danger.”

“Oh, you can tell Dean that all you want. See how that works out for ya.”

“Yes, that’s what Sam and I were discussing.”

“Well, I asked Carwyn to come over after we eat, so maybe she can give us some ideas.” Sophie took each of them by the hand to lead them out of the greenhouse. “But first, food. Dean made burgers and I’m starving.”

Dinner was quiet and uneventful. Sophie shared a story about how she just managed to avoid having vomit on her shoes that morning. No one batted an eye about vomit being discussed at dinner.

A warm breeze blew through the living room as Carwyn arrived after dinner. Sam and Sophie moved away from Cas and Dean as she arrived.

“Dudes, I gotta get away from you guys. You’re both burning up and making me sweat like a pig,” Sophie announced to the room.

“Pigs don’t sweat, Sophie,” Cas explained.

“Thanks, Professor Hot Stuff,” she replied cheekily. He glanced away and caught a glimpse of Dean’s face briefly, but long enough to know his face and neck were red. _He must be very warm_ , Cas thought.

Dean cleared his throat and moved away from Cas as he fixed his eyes on Carwyn. She looked much the same as when he saw her “in the dream zone,” as he had come to think of the time he first met her. Her skin was still a bit flush, curls slightly mussed, and her pupils dilated and dancing with light. The jacket was gone, though, and the shirt was now a tight white t-shirt with some sort of writing he didn’t understand on the front. He thought he caught the tips of angel wings near her hips. Damn – that was the shirt Cas was wearing that morning he had the kitchen dream. This déjà vu thing had to stop. He blushed furiously as he realized what that shirt was making him think of, and said, “So what’s the plan?”

Carwyn tilted her head slightly and smiled at him, eyes warm and amused. _Holy hell, she knew exactly what she was doing wearing that shirt._

She cut to the chase. “The offense we need to raise will be… unconventional,” she began. “Your training really won’t be of much use.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ve got what we need here. The Men of Letters had a lot of resources, and we know other hunters…”

“Weapons will do little good, Dean,” Carwyn explained. “Marou has grown very strong over the years, and her powers extend beyond angelic ones. She has made deals and traded favors for the various powers she’s gained over time. And, of course, we have the Antichrist to deal with.”

“He turned me into a doll the last time we saw him,” Cas said, a bit embarrassed.

“Yes. He’s powerful. But see, what I told you the last time I saw you will be what needs to happen in order to have a chance to defeat them and their kind.”

“Oh yes, the power of love. Are we gonna bring Celine in to sing?” Dean snarked.

“Your doubt will be your Castiel’s downfall.” Carwyn’s face was relaxed but her eyes blazed with the power of the universe (multiverse). Dean’s gut churned.

She turned back to the group. “As I said before, they must be fought with that which they seek to destroy – unity, connection, love. Castiel has always tried to fight them with weapons, power, and physical interventions, and always alone in his task. That won’t work. Although you mock it, Dean,” she looked at him pointedly, “love is, in fact, the greatest power there is. What you will need to do, Castiel,” she turned and fixed a gentle, tender gaze on him, “is find a way to unite as many beings of Heaven and Earth as possible to your cause, then use the power of their unity and connection to either transform or vanquish those against you.”

“So, he has to stage a campaign, kind of?” Sam asked.

“Something like that,” Carwyn answered. “He will need help and he will need training. This is where all of you come in. He will need you to assist him in gathering this support. He alone will have to work on winning the angels over, but he will need as much of your assistance as possible in winning over humans, who can be a very stubborn lot.” She side-eyed Dean. “He will also need you to teach him about love. Of course, the best way is by example,” she smiled at Sam and Sophie, “but he will also have to learn about love in all its forms and expressions – including spiritual, emotional, and physical. He will also need the energy of the love you all possess for him.”

“So, sort of like prayer, or sending him positive vibes or something?”

“Yes, Sophia, like that. Thinking loving thoughts, praying to him and for him, and expressing love physically as humans do, such as with the hugs you give him.”

Sophie continued, “So, he’s basically gotta be thinking about love 24/7, totally absorbed in it.”

“Indeed.”

Sophie hummed and nodded. “Okay, we got this.” She walked to Cas and circled her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest. “We got you, sweetie.” She squeezed quickly, then backed off. “Holy, you are scorching hot! You’d better get to expressing your love or whatever PDQ. You’re gonna start melting stuff.” She passed Dean and made a wide arc around him. “You too, man, phew!” Sophie fanned her face with her hand as she passed.

Carwyn smiled and arched an eyebrow at Cas. “Yes, he’ll be working on that, too.”

Castiel gulped.

The group formed their plan. Sam would work on researching love in all its forms and figure out how to wrangle the support of humankind (no small task). Sophie would work on “immersion,” as she called it. Dean still thought it was all foolish, but he agreed to help Sam and to find as much information as he could about Marou, Jesse, and their cronies. He decided he’d be the one to hit the road and talk to people (or creatures, as the case might be). He figured, reluctantly, that Crowley probably needed to go on his list, maybe Rowena, and he might have to catch a few demons. If Crowley could be a good guy about it, maybe he’d offer him a few. One could hope. Cas would be “training.” Carwyn didn’t really explain that except to say that he’d be working on “harness and flow.” Dean thought it sounded ridiculous, but he was trying to be supportive of Cas, like he said he would.

Carwyn explained to Sam and Sophie that they’ll need to hit different facets and expressions of love. Everyone agreed that Castiel probably had spiritual love pretty well wrapped up. He was a bit rusty in some of the other elements.

“What makes love strong?” Carwyn posited to the group. It was not a rhetorical question.

The group sat in thought.

“Devotion,” Sam started.

“Passion,” Sophie continued.

The two lovers pinged back and forth.

“Loyalty.”

“Forgiveness.”

“Respect.”

“Understanding.”

“Physical affection.”

“Yes, I agree, great sex and cuddling. Lots of cuddling,” Sophie teased Sam. He reddened.

“Oh! Fun! Humor,” Sophie added.

“Knowing your flaws and accepting you anyway. Putting up with each other because you can’t stand the thought of not having each other,” Dean muttered, not looking at the group. _Going through Hell and back_ , he thought.

“Doing anything and everything you can to protect them,” Cas added quietly.

“Yes, to everything,” Carwyn smiled widely. “Do you think, if everyone thought and acted this way, the world would be a better place?”

“We would be united so strongly we’d be invincible,” Sophie whispered, awe and understanding building in her voice.

“Yes, exactly,” Carwyn agreed. “Please focus your efforts on the elements you just discussed. I will be back soon to retrieve Castiel to begin his training. Castiel,” she turned to face him directly, “please spend your time meditating on these elements. You will need to immerse yourself in them in order to allow them to flow through you. I will take care of you and teach you everything I can, but it will be up to you, your beloved, and your family to make this work.” Light filled the room and Carwyn was gone.

They stared around the room at each other until Sam clasped his hands together and said, “Well. This should be easy.”

They all rolled their eyes and chuckled, although no one felt very cheerful in the moment.

__________________

Song referenced in this chapter:

 _Avalanche_ by Walk the Moon

 


	11. Immersion

A week of research, talking to others, and mulling it over did little to ease Dean’s anxiety. He felt trapped and more fearful than he ever had before. This nonsense was making him itch. Give him an angel blade and he felt pretty competent. Ask him about love and he felt completely out of his element. How were they supposed to help Cas this way? The thought of being rendered useless to help him kept him surly and aggravated. He was pretty unpleasant to be around, and neither Sam nor Sophie had a problem telling him so. Cas, bless him, hadn’t said a word about it.

Dean’s mood didn’t improve when Sophie shouted on a Thursday night, “I’ve got it!”

They swiveled their heads her way as she said, triumphantly, “Social media!”

Sam and Dean groaned. Cas looked at her questioningly and waited for her to continue.

“You’re obsessed with Facebook, Soph,” Sam whined.

“No, really, this is good!” she continued, undaunted. “We start a social media campaign based on love and unity. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, et cetera. We need a good hashtag.”

“How about ‘hashtag lame’?” Dean grumbled.

“How about someone is jealous and doesn’t have enough tech savvy to figure out social media?” she shot back. Dean rolled his eyes but grimaced. She was probably right.

“Anyway, so we come up with something clever, and we do videos, maybe some charity work, and just talk to people. Ooh, hey Cas, want to do an advice column? ‘Advice from an Angel,’” Sophie stretched her hands out as if mimicking a headline.

“Um, no…”

“Okay, fine, but how about this? Videos of you performing cool angel stuff? That way they believe you really are an angel.”

“Wait, we’re not telling the world Cas is an angel! No way! That puts him in way too much danger!” Dean was becoming heated.

“Hey, wouldn’t it be easier to gain the unity we need if people actually knew angels do exist? I mean, people are pretty complacent right now, and if we want humans and angels to be a team again, doesn’t it make sense to know your teammates?” Sophie gestured wildly to make her point.

“Perhaps there will be a time when that will be a good idea. I’m not against it, but I am also aware that people may be afraid of me,” Cas said.

“Or they may not believe him, and that would be worse,” Sam agreed.

“But I do like your social media idea, Sophie,” Cas continued. “What is a hashtag?”

“It’s the pound symbol” – she drew it on a piece of paper – “and it’s a way of tagging a message so that everyone on board with that message can read all of the stuff about that message in one place. So, if I wrote a message and said, #guineapigsrock, then someone could look up that phrase and see all kinds of messages others had written about how guinea pigs rock.” Dean rolled his eyes and sighed as Sophie explained. Were they really going to do this?

“I see,” Cas murmured, tapping his chin. “And this is popular?”

“Oh yeah! With younger people, especially. Ooh, how about #loverocks?”

They discarded that one but debated a bunch of others – “#lovewins?” “It’s good but that was used when marriage equality passed a few years ago” “#angelbladesaresharperthanlove?” “Dean!” – until Cas suggested, “How about #liveyourlove?”

Heads nodded. “I like it,” Sophie said. “I’m on it.”

Soon, Sophie and Sam outlined a plan of social media attack to include inspirational photos, quotes, and actions. They listed a variety of charitable acts they could do and ask others about. They called everyone they knew to encourage them to make it go “viral.” Sophie had several contacts through her work at hospitals, and she knew they’d all be on board. Sophie called to consult with her sister-in-law, who worked as a public relations consultant.

“Okay, so I think we have this on lock,” she commented to the room. “Cas, I think we’ll want to do some videos of you eventually.”

“Why?”

“To make you relatable. Plus, you’re super hot so people are gonna swoon over you.” Sophie pretended to swoon and wiggled her eyebrows at him. He stared back, not understanding her meaning. Sam laughed and squeezed her around the waist. Dean rolled his eyes as he cleaned one of his weapons.

“Um, okay…if you think that will be helpful. I’m not sure what the temperature of my body has to do with it, though.”

Sophie giggled, “No, silly, I mean you are what we humans call _physically attractive_. More so that the average human. Oh! Maybe we should include your light-mate in some of these? You know, human-angel interest story. People love a love story.”

Dean shifted and frowned slightly but didn’t look up. Cas replied, “No, I don’t think so. Perhaps we can tell others about it, but I don’t want to make the identity of my light-mate public. That could be uncomfortable, not to mention dangerous.”

“Okay, okay, point taken,” Sophie conceded as she raised her hands in a placating gesture. “So, we have the beginnings of our love attack on humans. What are you going to do for the angels?”

“I don’t know yet,” Cas admitted. “I thought perhaps I would do what good I could here, first, then see if I can use that example to convince as many of my brothers and sisters as I can that the bond between angels and humans is a good thing. Perhaps I’ll ask Carwyn for her advice, too. I should be meeting with her soon.”

“Good idea,” Sophie agreed as Dean uttered a low growl. “What’s the matter with you, grumpy?” she asked as she looked at Dean.

Dean focused on his weapon and didn’t answer her.

On Saturday morning, after spending Friday working and mulling over the social media strategy, Sophie unrolled the next part of her plan. Her arms were leaning heavily across the table, her own phone in hand, Sam’s computer in front of her, and Sam’s, Dean’s, and Castiel’s phones to her right. Sam was drinking a chocolate protein shake she’d made for him a few minutes before. He grinned at her bedhead and burgundy sweatshirt, the words “I AM A WARRIOR” and the ribbon for breast cancer emblazoned in hot pink on it. _She is_ , Sam thought, warmth spreading through his chest. He nudged at her foot.

“Hmm?” she acknowledged, not looking up. He nudged again, harder.

“What?” she said, still concentrating on her phone. He removed his slipper and slid his toes under her sweatpants and up her calf.

“Mr. Winchester,” she smirked as she looked up, “may I help you?” Her eyes danced with amusement.

“I love you,” he smiled.

“I love you, too, babe,” she winked. She wrapped her mouth around her spoonful of yogurt, and pulled it out slowly as she fixed her eyes on him. He watched her with interest.

“Okay, enough of that, I’m gonna puke over here,” Dean groused as he busied himself cracking eggs into a bowl.

“Trash can’s right next to you, so puke away,” Sophie smirked as she kept her eyes on Sam and winked again salaciously. Sam laughed loudly at Sophie’s cheekiness and Dean’s discomfort.

“Besides, it’s good for Cas to be around expressions of love.” She stuck out her tongue at Dean as he muttered, “Cas isn’t even here.” She ignored him and said, “Oh, and here’s another good thing for Cas!” Sophie shook her phone in her hand. “Music!”

“Music?” Dean and Sam said together.

“Yes! For humans, love is often expressed through music, right? So, I’m putting together a playlist of music for Cas to listen to, and a playlist for each of us, too. If we are going to help, we should all be immersing ourselves.” She looked at Dean. “Even you, bud.”

Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed, but said, “Alright, I’ll play along. What do you have on there? Anything good?”

“It’s all good! Of course, he’s getting more of the stuff I like, obviously, but I think it’s a good mix.”

“Lemme see,” Dean circled behind her and read over her shoulder. “ _Always_ …” he remembered the song from that morning and that dream and put it out of his head, “ _Never Tear Us Apart_ , _Who Do You Love_ , _We Found Love_ … Soph, I’ve never even heard of some of these. I thought you were putting good stuff on there?”

“I am! You need to expand your musical repertoire to the 21st century.”

Dean snatched the phone from her. “ _Pour Some Sugar on Me?_ Really?”

“Love isn’t all sappy, Dean. Gotta have some sexy stuff in there, too.”

“And what the hell is _Aquaman_? Is that the Pink Floyd song?”

“No, it’s by a band called Walk the Moon…”

“Who?”

“…It’s about being scared to get into a real, deep love with someone, but having to take a risk and dive in to find it,” she eyed Dean meaningfully, “and, oh, surprise, it’s _actually not that scary_.”

Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided her gaze. He looked back at the playlist, said, “You need some Journey and Zepp on here,” and tossed it back. “And don’t put crappy music on my playlist.”

“Oh, I already have lots of ideas for _your_ playlist.” She grinned conspiratorially at Sam. “Let’s see… I have the classics like _I_ _Think I Love You_ , _You’re My Best Friend_ , _Can’t Fight This Feeling_ , and _Nothing Else Matters_ …”

“Finally, some Metallica,” Dean mutters.

“…but then, oh, heeere we are…” she grinned a Cheshire Cat smile at Dean, “ _Angel Eyes_ , _Send Me an Angel_ , _Watching for Comets_ …”

Dean set his jaw and eyed her irritably.

“And, of course,” she winked as she showed Sam the song. They sang out obnoxiously, “ _Bay-ay-by, you’re my angel, come and save me toniiiight!_ ” and erupted in laughter.

“Ha ha, you think you’re funny,” Dean pouted. “I don’t need a playlist.”

“What?” Sophie asked, wide-eyed with fake innocence. “Aerosmith’s classic.”

He scowled at her.

Castiel walked into the kitchen from the greenhouse. He gave a puzzled look to the group. Dean turned away.

Sophie answered his look with, “I’m doing the playlist we talked about. Any requests?”

He thought for a moment. “ _Sitting on the Dock of the Bay_ ,” he replied. Dean turned back to face Cas’ profile.

Sam screwed up his face and said, “That’s not a love song, Cas.”

Cas replied, “Hmm. These songs should immerse me in positive feelings?”

Sam nodded.

“Good. Then it should be on there.” He spun around, having retrieved the Sharpie he came into the kitchen for, and walked back to the greenhouse.

That night, Dean added it to his playlist, too.

__________________

Songs referenced in this chapter:

_Always_ by Panic! at the Disco

_Never Tear Us Apart_ by INXS

_Who Do You Love_ by Marianas Trench

_We Found Love_ by Rihanna featuring Calvin Harris

_Pour Some Sugar_ on Me by Def Leppard

_Aquaman_ by Walk the Moon

_I Think I Love You_ by The Partridge Family

_You’re My Best Friend_ by Queen

_Can’t Fight This Feeling_ by REO Speedwagon

_Nothing Else Matters_ by Metallica

_Angel Eyes_ by The Jeff Healey Band

_Send Me an Angel_ by Real Life

_Watching for Comets_ by Skillet

_Angel_ by Aerosmith

_Sitting on the Dock of the Bay_ by Otis Redding

 


	12. Harness and Flow

Castiel spent the next week or so listening to his love song playlist and reading love stories and poetry. His head was swimming. Although all of these things he was absorbing were about human love, he felt he could translate them into something he could understand – maybe now more than ever before. He thought about them in relation to his light-mate and often shook his head at how often the themes didn’t seem to fit, and how often they actually did. Dean (with Sam’s brotherly badgering) had even begrudgingly allowed him to listen to it in the Impala when they took a couple of days to deal with a shapeshifter love triangle in Boulder. (“Why can’t he just listen to it on his headphones?” “We’re in this together, Dean. _Together_.” “Fine, whatever.”) Although he was a being of faith (despite the number of times it was shaken), he did admit to having some trepidation about this new way of doing things. He had never used love as a weapon. It seemed counterintuitive. But, he supposed, love was the motivator for many of the things he had done in his long existence, and if the Lifeforce said it would be his best chance to protect his light-mate and his Earthly family, then he would do it. He hoped, perhaps, he could even have a little happiness out of it all, though he was used to self-denial.

It was a Friday afternoon when the warm breeze ruffled Dean’s hair. Dean felt that odd mixture of anxiety and desire, the push-pull he always seemed to experience around Carwyn. He looked up from his bucket of sudsy water as he sloshed soapy water on the hood of his Baby.

“Hello, Dean,” she greeted him warmly. Despite his misgivings about her, she never held a grudge. He grunted in response. She rolled her eyes affectionately, placing a hand briefly but tenderly on his back. His t-shirt was clinging to him now, sweat pouring off him between the exertion of washing his car and the effect of Carwyn’s presence. She watched him as he tried to concentrate on ignoring how pleasing her presence felt to him. It was confusing the hell out of him and he didn’t want to deal with it. “You take such wonderful care of your car.”

“Yeah, well, it’s practically a member of the family,” he muttered as he strained to focus away from her.

“Mmm, yes, you do take wonderful care of your family, too,” she mused. He ignored her. Where the hell did she get off saying nice things about him?

He turned to face her briefly as he dunked the sponge back into the water. “Feel free to help out,” he challenged. She smiled and selected a clean sponge from the shelf, dunked it, and started to scrub the windows. Well shit, he didn’t expect that. They washed quietly, Carwyn occasionally asking a question about how to clean this or that properly. Dean didn’t want to like this woman (or whatever she was), but at least he could respect her a little for how she treated his Baby. As he turned to grab the hose to rinse off the Impala, his body heated up more and more, and a rush of endorphins flooded his brain. He looked up and noticed Castiel walking toward him, beer in hand and plate in the other. _Why the hell is it so hot in here?_

“Dean, I brought you some lunch… hello Carwyn,” Castiel said.

“Hello, Castiel,” she beamed as she embraced him. “I’m here to fetch you to begin your training.”

Dean hesitated. Should he fight this? He didn’t have any weapons nearby…

“I melt your weapons, Dean, remember?” Carwyn side-eyed him. Dean grimaced like a child caught stealing a cookie before dinner.

Castiel frowned as he tried to understand why she said that. She turned back to him and said, “Your Dean is afraid for you.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Do you trust me, Castiel? Do you trust that I want you to be with your beloved? That I want you to be happy?”

Castiel’s eyes watered as his gravelly voice scraped out a “yes.”

Dean grasped Cas’ bicep and pulled him aside. “Hey, you sure about this? There could be another way…”

“Dean,” Cas replied as he placed his hand on top of Dean’s, “I’m tired of running. I’m tired of hiding. And I’m tired of…well, I’m just hoping….” He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “I’m just hoping.” He dropped his hand as he looked in Dean’s eyes. Cas’ watery blues reminded him of the lake, the dock, his laugh. He wanted Cas to be happy, even if it meant it was painful, for some reason, to Dean. _Why does this hurt so damn much?_ Dean shook off the thought as he said, “Hey man, I trust you. Do what you gotta do to kick some ass. But you call me if you need anything, alright?” Cas nodded and promised he would.

As Cas walked toward Carwyn, Dean blurted, “But you’re coming back, right? I mean, you’re not just going poof again. You’re gonna come back?” Dean’s fists were tucked into his jeans, and a hint of anxiety ruffled the meadow in Dean’s eyes. Cas turned and closed the space between them, capturing Dean’s eyes as he tilted his head and said, “Of course, Dean. Always.”

Dean was left pondering the meaning of always as Carwyn rested her hand on Cas’ shoulder and they disappeared.

***

They arrived in a field near a stream, deer drinking lazily nearby. Cas didn’t know what to expect from his training, but he didn’t expect Carwyn barefoot in torn, faded jeans and a hooded plaid shirt. Vessels didn’t matter to him, and he usually took little note of them, but he wondered why they were still using their vessels in the first place, and whether the plaid was supposed to mean anything. It reminded him of the Winchesters.

He chose not to ask about that, but did ask about their vessels. She shrugged and told him, “You straddle two worlds we are trying to unite, Castiel. Being in your vessel while maintaining your grace seems most appropriate.” He nodded.

“Castiel, I am going to teach you to harness and flow.”

He squinted and cocked his head, trying to figure out if he should know what she meant.

“Relax, sweetheart. This is new to you.”

He relaxed a little.

She led him through the basics of chakra alignment and deep meditation, all of which were review for him. He meditated regularly. She moved on to prayers. He thought he’d be a star pupil in this category. He was wrong.

“So, tell me what you do when you receive a prayer,” Carwyn asked curiously.

“Well, I listen to the prayer, and if I can answer it, I do.”

“So you try to solve the problem.”

“Of course.”

“It becomes your responsibility.”

“Yes.”

“You take responsibility and ownership of the problem.”

He was starting to worry. “Yes….”

“And if you can’t solve it?”

He felt some shame now. “I… ignore it or try harder?”

“And when you ignore it?”

“I feel bad.”

“And when you try harder?”

“I screw it up.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm.” Castiel shifted uncomfortably.

Carwyn smiled and lifted his hand into hers. “I am not here to shame you. What I find is that you generally take on all the problems of others and try to fix them yourself, and then feel awful when you can’t, which usually leads to trying harder and isolating yourself from others.”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

“Castiel,” she squeezed his hand, “you tend to keep the energy of their prayers within you instead of allowing it to flow through you. There’s a time to harness their energy and a time to permit it to flow through you. I’m going to teach you.”

He looked at her quizzically.

“Believe it or not, when you hold the prayer, you cannot work with it. So, say an individual prays to you to heal her father from an illness. What would you do?”

“It depends. If her father is destined to recover or destined to die, I would do nothing.”

“So you ignore it.”

“I can’t do anything about it.”

“Untrue.”

“Untrue?”

“So what if her father is not destined one way or another?”

“I would heal him.”

“So what has she learned out of this experience?”

Castiel paused. “I don’t understand.”

“She has learned that nothing is in her control.”

“Her father’s healing is not in her control.”

“Perhaps it is.”

“How so?”

“Perhaps the answer to her prayer lies in leading her to alternative medicines, or to a second opinion. Perhaps the answer to her prayer is leading her to seek the advice or comfort of a friend. Perhaps the answer is giving her comfort when all seems lost, or giving her the ability to see what she cannot see.”

She continued as he continued to stare, “Castiel, rather than holding her prayer and blaming yourself for not being able to fix things, or ignoring her pain, both of which also cause you pain, instead allow your love for humanity to flow through you in response to her prayer, thus giving her the strength she needs and the answers she seeks. Trust that she can find the answers within herself and those around her. Trust that you don’t have to fix it to be helpful.”

This gave Castiel pause. “But shouldn’t I fix it if I can?”

“Sometimes there are lessons to be learned and strength to be found when we give the problem back to others and trust that they have what they need to do what is best for them.”

“So I have been doing this wrong.”

“No, no… you just take on the weight of the world, so to speak. Guilt, shame, anger, fear… none of those things serve you. None of them allow you to love. They block the freedom love brings. If you let go of that which does not serve you, and allow love to fill those spaces instead, you will find that the love will grow into something greater than yourself and greater than the person who is praying to you.”

“I see. You are suggesting that I let the prayers flow through me. But I don’t understand the harness part.”

“Let’s use that same example,” she explained. “It’s like a fishing net of sorts. You want the water to flow through while you keep the fish, right? In this case, you want the true need of the request to stay while the rest of it leaves. Yes, she may want her father to recover, but what she needs is the strength to see herself through whatever result may occur. Harness the love she is sending out in her request – the love she has for herself and for her father – and allow the fear to wash away. You will then transform and feed that love to her in the form of strength and comfort.”

“All of my intention must be toward love.”

“Exactly. When you try to solve the problem for her, you are feeding her fear, because you are answering her fear. The message she gets is that whatever she is facing must be something to fear, because she cannot handle it and must rely on others to rescue her.”

“I haven’t been helping people.”

“Of course you have. This is an opportunity to make things even better, not an opportunity to flog yourself. Self-love is important too, Castiel.”

“I don’t have a lot of practice with that.”

“You used to. You just need to find it again,” she replied, patting his hand. “Now, let’s try to answer a few prayers.”

Carwyn closed her eyes and focused. Castiel watched as a tiny particle of light floated onto her open palm. She covered it with her other hand and he heard her utter a few words in Portuguese. The speck grew into a glowing orb that danced in her hand, and Carwyn smiled with joy. The orb looked…. _delighted_ , if Castiel could put a word to it. As she opened her hands, the orb transformed into a bird and flew away. She repeated the process several times in different languages as the radiant motes drifted around her. Castiel remembered a young human girl, probably five years old, blowing on a dandelion that had gone to seed, the gray-white clocks flying away as she laughed, pointed, and ran around in circles clapping her hands. He wondered if Carwyn had manifested in that girl in that moment, or if the girl’s soul was manifesting in Carwyn now. He marveled at the sight and couldn’t imagine how he could possibly do what she was doing. He had so much difficulty “letting go,” as Sophie liked to say. (“Just let go, Cas… relax! Chill out!” Sophie would say to him as she shook his shoulders, ostensibly to “loosen him up.”)

Carwyn opened her eyes and the tiny sparks disappeared. “Your turn, sweetheart,” she said to Cas.

“Um, I don’t think I can do that the way you do,” he muttered.

“Trust me, this will be much easier than when I take you through the self-forgiveness exercises.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, my dear, loving others isn’t enough. You need to love yourself, too.”

Castiel stared at her.

“Oh yes, you can,” she said, answering his unexpressed fear. “Now, prayers, let’s go,” she clapped.

He found that at first he felt self-conscious and foolish. She reminded him to allow his grace to expand and contract (the human equivalent of breathing), to focus on the intent of the prayers, and to give the gifts of love, connection, forgiveness, and trust in every response. Soon, although he certainly didn’t think he did as well as she did, he thought he was getting the hang of it. What he discovered was that the more love, connection, forgiveness, and trust he gave, the more he received. This was an unexpected and welcome development. He smiled to himself as he realized why she would teach this to him before she taught him how to love himself. Giving to others would strengthen him as well, and if they deserved these gifts, perhaps he could earn them as well. Carwyn confirmed his thoughts with a smile and a gentle nudge of her life energy to his. It was the best he had felt in… well, in quite some time.

And, although she was correct in saying it was _much_ harder to love himself, he eventually did.


	13. Love Advice from Nicki Minaj

Tuesday night, Sam and Dean were finishing up after a ghost hunt about an hour away from the bunker. Four ghosts – unusual, but not unheard of. As they dug up the last cemetery plot for a salt and burn, Dean could feel Sam’s eyes rest on him every so often. He wanted to talk. Dean kept digging and resolutely tried to ignore him.

“So…” _Damn, here it comes._

“What, Sam? You’ve been staring at me throughout this entire trip.”

“How are you doing?”

He stopped digging and looked up, leaning on his shovel. “Well, I’m sweaty, I’m waist-deep in worms and dirt and death, and I’m not getting help because you keep stopping to stare at me. I’m just dandy. Now can we get this done?” He shook his head and started digging again.

Sam waited until the fire was out and they were filling in the plot before he addressed Dean again. This time, he grabbed the shovel away.

“This ain’t gonna fill itself, Sammy,” Dean groused as he tried to snatch the shovel back. Sam pulled it out of his reach. Dean didn’t give up until Sam threw it several feet away.

“Seriously, Sam?”

“Yeah, seriously, Dean. What is your problem?”

“Currently it’s a grave we gotta get filled before sunrise. And a jackass of a brother.”

“You’re worried about Cas. Why? He’s probably safer with Carwyn than us.”

“I’m not worried about Cas. He’s a big boy.”

“Liar.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk. You can’t fool me.”

Dean wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, smearing dirt on it in the process. He stood in a fighting stance, legs wide apart and hands twitching at his sides. He tried to stare down Sam. Sam stared back. Dean threw up his hands in frustration.

“I just don’t trust her, Sam.”

“Why not? She’s the _Lifeforce of the Multiverse_.”

“So she says, Sam.”

“I believe her, Sophie believes her, and Cas believes her. That’s not enough for you?”

“I just can’t trust her. I just… feel like we’re gonna get screwed somehow.” Dean wouldn’t tell Sam about the strange pull he also felt in her presence. He couldn’t explain it if he wanted to. He didn’t understand it himself.

Sam softened his voice and his stance. He leaned slightly toward Dean. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Dean stood down and avoided Sam’s pitying gaze. “You don’t know that, Sam. What if he can’t kill these sons of bitches? According to her, he hasn’t managed to do it yet. What if he gets captured again? Hell, if he can’t avoid getting captured when he’s _fighting_ , how is he going to avoid it when he’s _loving them to death_? They’re pissed, Sam. He keeps finding this person in all these lifetimes, and they’ve had enough. What if they torture and kill him, huh? Or make her kill him? Or maybe he kills them all and then she rejects him? How’s that gonna be? Did anyone stop to think that maybe he should give this woman up?” Dean panted, not realizing he’d been yelling.

“You want him to give up his light-mate?” Sam asked quietly, concern etched in his face.

“I want his feathery ass out of danger for once! And I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Sam.” Dean stormed away to retrieve his shovel. Sam sighed heavily as he watched his brother avoid his feelings once again. The early morning ride home was dark and quiet.

***

Bright laughter filled the bunker as Wednesday morning dawned, the promise of fall in the air. Sophie startled, exclaimed “You’re back!” and jumped into Cas’ arms as he strode into the kitchen, where she had been dancing and singing to herself. He chuckled softly as he returned the hug in earnest, swinging her in a circle. As he placed her back on her feet, she leaned back with her hands on his shoulders and said, “You’re different.”

“What do you mean?” His brow furrowed.

“You just… well, you laughed and swung me around and you just seem… lighter? What did Carwyn do to you?”

Cas smiled shyly. “She taught me how to harness and flow. And how to answer prayers. And…well, how to love myself.”

She squinted her eyes and cocked her head in imitation of his favorite pose. “What?”

He chuckled again and leaned on the counter, explaining everything that happened as she assembled her berry protein shake.

“Wow, that sounds crazy cool,” she commented.

“You will eventually be invited to join me,” he told her. She squealed and clapped her hands. He loved her enthusiasm, and smiled warmly at her response.

“What will I be doing?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” he responded. “Would you like help with breakfast? Dean told me they were on their way back home when I texted him.”

Sophie made a split-second decision to push Cas’ boundaries. “Nice that your boyfriend told you they were on their way back. Wish mine had. I’ll have to give him hell for that.” She smirked and nudged Cas’ elbow.

He regarded her carefully. “Dean is not my boyfriend,” he informed her seriously, although he wasn’t sure why he had to.

“Pity. Although I suppose you’re waiting for your _light-mate_ , right?” Sophie eyed him carefully, but couldn’t decipher the response in his face. She smiled and tugged at his arm. “I’m just teasing you. Yes, come help me with breakfast.” She paused before she added, carefully, “You know you can tell me, right? Talk to me about whoever this human is you love? You can trust me.”

He nodded solemnly.

Sophie let it go and grabbed his phone, choosing a song from his playlist and turning up the volume.

“Music while we work,” she winked.

“I really don’t understand why you put this song on here. I haven’t figured it out yet,” Cas questioned Sophie as she sang along, even getting the rapping parts correct.

“Because it’s about the excitement of new love… or physical attraction, at least,” she quipped as she grabbed his waist, shaking him and continuing with, “ _Boy you got my heartbeat running away, beatin’ like a drum and it’s comin’ your way.…”_

Cas shook his head and smiled as she sang to him and let her move him around the kitchen. “It’s a little crass,” he commented.

“Eh, gotta have some fun, too, my friend,” she winked. “Let _all_ the feelings out, you know?”

Cas nodded, but didn’t really know. He assumed this must be a human thing.

“Besides,” she continued quietly, “it got me through some tough times after the mastectomy. I felt pretty lousy about my body for a while. Didn’t feel very desirable or sexy, didn’t feel like anyone would want me now that I was ‘damaged goods.’ Which, I know, was a crock, I’m not damaged, but that’s how it felt when I was depressed about it. I know it’s kinda silly, but to me the song’s really about being bold and expressing what you want, to hell with anyone else. I needed that message… I thought maybe you could use it too.” She turned her eyes toward him and looked uncertainly through her lashes.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Then I will think of you when I hear it, because you inspire me to be bold and to live and love better every day,” he said sincerely. She blushed and shoved him lightly to take the seriousness out of the mood.

They were slicing vegetables for omelets, Sophie singing loudly and Cas mouthing the words to _Hole Hearted_ , when Sam and Dean clattered down the stairs. Dean hesitated a few seconds while Sam plunged ahead toward his fiancée. He pretended to fiddle with his duffel bag as he took in the scene. Cas looked… relaxed, safe. Happy. Dean felt a pang of _something_ as he watched the domesticity of the sight before him. Could you feel homesick for a person? He wasn’t sure, but he wished somehow he had been here sharing in the glow surrounding Cas and Sophie’s easy interaction, somehow included in the warmth that Sam and Sophie shared. _Might be nice to have someone to come home to_ , he thought as his gaze fell on Cas, who turned his fond countenance from Sam and Sophie’s reunion to Dean. Dean rarely saw such a wide smile from the angel as Cas’ face lit up, and that it was given to him, well… he didn’t really want to think about it.

Cas wiped his hands on a towel and approached Dean, palms up near his waist as he stopped and gestured to Dean’s and Sam’s bags, dropped near the bottom of the stairs. “May I help?” he asked, his question innocent but his tone private as he waited for a response.

“Uh, yeah, if you want,” Dean stammered. He handed Sam’s bag over as he slung his own on his shoulder.

“How was your hunt?” Cas asked politely, leading the way down the hall. Dean watched Cas’ tall, lithe form amble ahead of him, and when had he started watching Cas walk?

“Uh, not bad. Four ghosts.” Words tumbled around like marbles in his mouth.

“Sounds unusual,” Cas commented as he opened Sam’s door and placed his bag beside the doorframe. He stumbled into Dean as Dean rushed from his bedroom, where he’d thrown his duffel haphazardly, and the two braced themselves against each other’s arms, simultaneously supporting each other and themselves back to standing. Cas, concern worrying his brow, asked Dean, “Are you okay?”

Dean flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, I uh… I wanted to catch you before we…” and he motioned toward the kitchen.

“Okay,” he nodded.

“Yeah, uh, so, how was, you know, your thing?” _Way to go, Winchester. Graceful._ Dean folded his arms and rocked on his heels. “Your, uh, training thing. With, uh, Carwyn and whoever.”

The corners of his mouth upturned slightly as he said, “The training thing with Carwyn went well.”

“So, you uh, got what you need to find Jesse and Marou and, uh, your light-mate or whatever?” Dean tried to be casual and failed. He shuffled uncomfortably.

Cas didn’t seem to notice as he huffed an amused breath. “No, I’m afraid I’ve only just begun to train. I did learn how to answer prayers more effectively, though.”

Dean couldn’t help the smirk, a sign of friendship (and one of his favorite ways of deflecting his painful baggage) as he said, “So, does this mean you’re gonna answer me when I pray to you?” He remembered times when he prayed – sometimes for help, sometimes because he just wanted him around – and that sometimes those prayers went unanswered.

Cas deadpanned, “Perhaps if you didn’t call my ass feathery when you prayed, I might come sooner.” His eyes betrayed his humor, and Dean caught on and chuckled. Seriously, then, Cas confessed, “You know, though, Dean, I did actually learn a lot. I’m sorry for not always answering your prayers. Sometimes I felt powerless to help, or had my own mix of things happening, and I missed the times that I could’ve provided you comfort despite not having a way to fix whatever was going on. I apologize and I will try to do better.” He stared down to his right at nothing in particular.

Dean wiped his face and rubbed his neck as he replied, “Hey man, it’s over, you know? I know you did your best, and, you know, sometimes it was me just kinda being selfish.” He shrugged, and although he wanted to dismiss the angel’s apology, he did feel better for it.

Cas’ mouth twisted into a wry smile as he caught Dean’s eyes and said, “It is okay to want something for yourself, Dean.”

Remembering the conversation on the dock made Dean feel warm and… _something_. Instead of examining it too closely, he replied, mischievously, “Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard. Some feathery-assed guy told me that once.”

“Your feathery-assed friend sounds very wise,” Castiel rumbled.

“Yeah, well, he’s really old, so older and wiser, they say…”

“And your older, wiser friend can smite you where you stand.”

“He hasn’t yet,” Dean challenged, using his slight height advantage as he leaned forward into Cas’ space.

Cas stood, unintimidated and amused. “No. In addition to being wise, he’s very patient.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the kitchen. Dean laughed harder than he’d laughed in a while.

__________________

Songs referenced in this chapter:

_Super Bass_ by Nicki Minaj

_Hole Hearted_ by Extreme

 


	14. i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

“I’m telling you, something weird is going on,” Sam puzzled over his laptop.

“That’s kinda what we do, Sam. Keeps us employed. The pay sucks but keeping the world safe is a good fringe benefit,” Dean snarked as he shoveled the last of the chicken cordon bleu into his mouth. Sophie might be a pain in the ass, but man, she could cook.

“I know, but weirder than usual. Other hunters are reporting increased activity in pockets around the country. Mostly ghosts. Vengeful spirits all over the place.”

“Any pattern?”

“Not that I can discern.”

“Alright, any we wanna check out?” Dean cleared his plate from the table and rinsed it.

“Yeah, this one looks interesting,” Sam commented as he turned his computer toward Dean, who’d ambled back to peer over his brother’s shoulder. “Three deaths already, and it looks like the family is feuding. Big mess.”

“Family mess? Yeah, sounds like us,” Dean deadpanned. “Where we headed?”

“Little town outside Richmond, Virginia.”

“Okay. Cas?” He turned to the angel, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch in gray sweatpants (borrowed from Dean) and a navy blue t-shirt (also borrowed from Dean, since they didn’t go shopping for him yet and Dean wasn’t in a hurry to do so). The screen highlighted the contours of Castiel’s face, down to the divot of his chin that was often hidden in dark stubble. Dean watched him flick through the pages and type furiously on the glowing gadget. It didn’t seem fair that Cas was better at technology than Dean was. Still, he couldn’t hold it against him when one, he didn’t care whether he was good at it or not and two, when he needed help it gave him an excuse to ask Cas. He briefly thought that shouldn’t please him as much as it did. Neither should Cas wearing Dean’s clothes and looking utterly at ease. He cleared his throat, which brought Cas’ attention squarely on Dean. “Uh… hunt, you comin’?”

Castiel nodded. “Of course, Dean.” He looked down at his loungewear. “It might be appropriate for me to change my clothing.” He returned his gaze to Dean.

“Uh, yeah, uh… Fed threads, okay? Or bring them, at least. It’s a long ride so you can stay in sweats if you want ‘til we’re close. Or wear some jeans. I can leave you some. Of mine, I mean. Um, I’m gonna pack the car.” Dean rubbed his neck and turned away from Cas, quickly snatching his phone from the table as he hastened his exit away from the brother who eyed him curiously and the angel who didn’t seem to understand why Dean was flustered. Dean didn’t understand himself, so he tucked that away for later and made some order out of their weapons cache in the trunk instead.

Cas joined Dean shortly after, wearing his suit (which he had repaired since having the pants cut from his body during his fever). He stopped at the window, hands in his hair to try to smooth down the pieces that always seemed to want to stick out. Dean chuckled at the sight. Cas’ hair always looked like he’d either been caught in a wind tunnel or he was a Ken doll – wild or plastered close to his head. It had a mind of its own. He couldn’t resist coming behind him and ruffling Cas’ hair, effectively undoing everything he’d just done. Cas scowled.

“I’m supposed to look presentable to other humans if they’re to believe I’m one of them, and a Federal agent at that,” he complained. He opened Dean’s duffel, which he’d brought outside for him, as Dean had left the bunker without it.

“What’re you doing?” Dean asked as he watched Cas riffle through his bag.

Sam stepped outside shortly after and found Cas and Dean arguing over hair pomade. _Such a married couple_ , he thought as he rolled his eyes.

“Hey guys? Could you stop arguing over hair gel and get in the car?” They turned sheepishly toward him and muttered their consent.

One long, tense, tedious drive later, the hunters checked into one of many decrepit hotels in their lives. The brothers decided to get some rest before starting their interviews. Cas pulled out Sam’s laptop to do some research.

“Cas, do you have to type so loudly?” Dean groused. He sandwiched his head between pillows.

“I cannot control the sound of the keys, Dean,” Cas argued reasonably.

“I’m sure you probably could if you wanted to…”

“I don’t think using my mojo to dampen the sound of the keys is particularly responsible. It’s just an annoyance…”

“Precisely why I want you to keep it down…”

“I need to do something…”

“So sleep.”

“You know I don’t sleep, Dean.”

“Well, I need my four hours, so…”

“Alright, Dean. I’ll go…”

“Don’t go,” he said a little too quickly, “just stop that damn typing for a while….”

“Okay, you know what? _I’m_ going. You’ve been at each other’s throats all day,” Sam shouted as he threw the covers back and slipped his shoes on. “I’ll sleep in the car.” He grabbed a pillow and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Cas worried his lips into a thin line and studied his hands. Dean breathed a long sigh.

“I’ll go speak to him,” Cas said as he stood. “I could probably do this from the car, if the Wi-Fi signal is adequate.”

Dean grunted noncommittally.

“I apologize for irritating you today, Dean,” he continued. “It was not my intention to make you unhappy.”

Dean mumbled something Cas couldn’t understand as he sat up in bed. He looked at Cas with bloodshot eyes as he ran his hand through his sandy hair. Castiel thought of the times he stood on beaches around the world, dragging swirls through wet sand and watching the water reclaim and smooth the sand back into a flat expanse, as if he’d never been there. He wondered if conflict, or tragedy, or just life would be the water that erased Cas’ significance in Dean’s mind. He watched as Dean’s fingers left faint trails in his hair, still sticky with the pomade they’d argued about earlier, and hoped that perhaps he would be more permanent to Dean, that he would not be washed away. He wondered why he was so melancholy, and why he felt anything like melancholy at all.

Dean felt horrible as he dared a glance at Castiel. He sat motionless, lost in thought, and Dean knew it was his fault. He had been feeling unsettled lately. Things had been strange between him and Cas, and he found himself thinking about things that he shouldn’t. He had to keep reminding himself that they were working on a larger project here, which was to _get Cas back with his beloved or some shit_. Sam’s interrogating of Cas during the car ride about his training only highlighted that for Dean. Pangs of jealousy often hit him out of nowhere now, and he couldn’t be honest with himself about whether he was jealous of Cas for having someone to love or of Cas’ light-mate for having….

“Listen, man,” Dean started quietly, “it’s me, okay? It’s not you. Lot on my mind.”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t,” Dean chided. “Really, not your fault.”

“I am not thinking very clearly today myself,” Cas sighed and rolled his eyes. “Behavior unbecoming of an angel.”

Dean shot him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Emotional. I’ve been… emotional.”

“Hanging with the hairless apes too long, eh?” Dean joked. “Seriously, man, let’s just agree to lay off each other, alright? Sam will kill us otherwise.”

Cas smiled that tiny smile Dean swore he reserved just for him. He left to speak with Sam, who was folded awkwardly in the backseat of the Impala.

“My apologies, Sam,” Cas intoned as he peered in at Sam from the front passenger door. “You can go back to bed. I’m going to work from out here.”

“Meh, it’s alright, Cas,” Sam said dismissively. He was exhausted but curious, and curiosity won. “What’s going on between you and Dean?”

“I don’t know,” Cas shrugged and looked away.

“You sure? He seems kinda pissed at you.”

“I know. I’m not sure why. I suspect he feels some pressure about the case.”

“The one we’re going on? Nah.” Sam eyed Castiel and wondered whether to continue. He thought Cas knew more than he was letting on. Castiel’s face was impassive. Whatever he knew or suspected, he wasn’t talking.

“I don’t require sleep, Sam. Go inside.” He opened the back door for Sam to spill out.

“You sure you’ll be alright?”

Cas stared at him, puzzled at his concern. He answered slowly, “Yes, Sam. Thank you.” Cas wrapped his trench coat around him as he turned and slid into the front passenger seat. He opened the laptop and resumed his research. Sam stared at the back of his head, weighing out his options. He suspected something was on the angel’s mind, but whatever it was, he didn’t seem inclined to share. He sighed. Sometimes Cas could flounder in emotional quicksand as much as Dean could. Sam unfolded his large frame as he exited the vehicle. Still pondering the last sixteen hours between his brother and their best friend, he opened the door, which Cas had left unlocked for him. No key cards at this place.

Sam flopped onto the bed unceremoniously and looked at Dean, who was lying on his back, eyes closed, clothes on. “What’s going on with you guys? Don’t bother pretending you’re sleeping.”

“Nothing,” Dean growled, voice heavy with fatigue and something else Sam couldn’t identify.

“Yeah, sure. You’ve been biting his head off all day.”

“Not talking about it, Sam.”

“Dean…”

“I’m done, Sam. Cas and I’ve already talked about it. I need to sleep.” He rolled away from Sam and hid his head with the lumpy, musty motel pillow. Sam sighed and resigned himself to sleep and silence.

Three days of interviews, several bruises, and two salt and burns later, the brothers and their angel were driving back home. It had been a tough case. Family conflict was never easy to deal with, but this one was especially messy. Infidelity, betrayal, manipulation, money – any one of them could throw a wrench into the works, but throw them together and it was like a game of Clue. The ghosts were twin brothers who’d been in business together and had betrayed each other in life, both in business and in love, and not only were they trying to exact revenge on their past lovers and business partners, but they were trying to exact revenge on each other as well. They’d never seen vengeful spirits go after each other, and they never wanted to see it again. It wasn’t pretty. It was how Dean got a spectacular bruise on his back and Sam a long gash across his forehead. Cas offered to heal them, but they refused. “Not until I get some sympathy from my fiancée,” Sam had joked.

The Winchesters were out again just a few days later, this time to Texas and Louisiana, dealing with similar situations. Cas stayed behind, trusting that they had these well in hand. No one really thought much about whether these strange cases were a symptom of their larger problem with Marou. Cas would look back on it afterward and say it should’ve been obvious.

Cas and Sophie sat on the couch on the second night of the brothers’ absence discussing the poetry of e.e. cummings and how it related to his “situation.” Regarding that, Sophie hadn’t managed to get Cas past his “it’s complicated” speech. She sighed and loved him anyway. She was relaxed and sleepy, thinking about her “boys” – Sam, Cas, Dean. She thought about how proud she was of Castiel, and how her heart ached for him. It occurred to her that, while their social media plan was actually taking off (and, despite her enthusiasm, initially she hadn’t been sure if it would) and people were really starting to talk about love, he didn’t really feel free to talk about his own. She had asked him recently if it was painful for him, and he had said no. He was a terrible liar, at least to her. She had called him on it, and he smiled and said nothing. She came back to reality and to her sweet Castiel as he was about to read _i carry your heart with me_ from a book of poetry. Instead of his rolling thunder, the words flowed with a lilt, sweet and thick with emotion, and they turned to find Carwyn with them, heat rippling from her human form as she leaned and recited from memory above Castiel. Carwyn then sat between them, folding her arms around them, and said, “It’s time for you to come with me. Will you come, Sophie?” Sophie nodded, trusting, and she whisked them away to a lush, fragrant garden. As Sophie took it all in, she thought that it was like a dream where you know you’re in a familiar place, but it looks nothing like the place. It felt like their greenhouse, she decided. She wondered where they were.

“You’re on another plane of consciousness,” she answered Sophie’s thought, “in a place where you feel connection with each other.” _Oh, well that’s simple_ , Sophie mused to herself.

“It isn’t really simple, but it’s the easiest explanation,” she winked. Sophie stared at Carwyn and joked, “I’m just gonna shut up now.” Carwyn’s and Castiel’s easy laughter relaxed her.

“Alright. So Castiel needs to learn how to harness and flow at a new level.” She smirked at Cas and he blushed, as if they shared a private joke. “Now that he has practiced answering others, and he has practiced self-acceptance, he now needs to learn how to accept and ask others for help and use that power. Please stand here,” she indicated to her right, “and Castiel will stand here.” She placed Cas directly in front of Sophie, about two feet separating them.

“I’ve asked for help before,” Cas insisted.

“I mean for something you want, not only for someone else or the fate of the world.” There was challenge in her eyes as she watched him. Cas wisely stepped back from the challenge.

“Now,” she continued, “you will need to find the most comfortable, meaningful way to connect yourselves to each other. Something that reflects your relationship.”

The pair turned to Carwyn, baffled. She gave no further instructions. Sophie turned back to Cas and shrugged. “Okay, bro, how’re we doing this?” He shrugged a shoulder in response. She picked up a handful of rich soil from a nearby bed of sunny yellow chrysanthemums and joked, “I could throw this dirt at you.” He slid some of the soil from her hand into his, threw it playfully at her, then smiled and took her right hand, still holding the rest of the soil. It slipped through her palm onto the spongy earth as she grasped his hand gently. Trust flowed between them as they closed their eyes and bowed their heads, as if in prayer.

“Very good. Sophia, please meditate upon your relationship with Castiel. As you do so, your energy will flow to him.”

Sophie concentrated hard.

“No need to force it, Sophie,” Carwyn instructed as she touched her shoulder. “Just allow your feelings for Castiel to come through. Breathe and allow the feelings to flow through you into him. With every inhalation, feel the emotions and words you associate with him. With every exhalation, send them to him.”

Sophie tried to remember the yoga she had once learned during her recovery. She had found it difficult to focus at the time; she considered herself too active to sit still for long. As she breathed, though, a lightness and warmth settled upon her. She felt calm and focused, knowing this was important for her friend. Heat tingled through their connection as she breathed in and out, in and out.

Castiel felt the energy of Sophie’s soul speaking to him, joining with his light. Impressions of moments danced through the connection. _Loyalty, devotion, humor, acceptance_ pulsed through Castiel and grew the light into a bright, spinning sphere within him. He bounced the ball of light back to her through their connection. They played a game of catch, two friends in a garden on a warm day, enjoying each other’s easy company. When they started to laugh, Carwyn smiled and asked them to separate and open their eyes.

Sophie’s eyes fell on the blob of light between them. It appeared that Cas was blowing glass _in his hands_ , and though she thought she should tell him to stop before he hurt himself, she was transfixed. His touch spun and lifted the orb.

“That,” Carwyn confided, pointing and stepping toward Sophie and leaning her head toward her, “is energy born of your relationship. It is your good intentions, your positive feelings, your hopes and wishes for Castiel.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sophie whispered, and it was.

“Love is beautiful,” Carwyn replied simply.

Castiel stretched the light like taffy. He bounced it between his hands like a Slinky. He stretched it between his fingers as it coated his hands and wrists. He was in awe, and he was confused. “What do I do with it?”

“Watch.” Carwyn took the light from him and coated it around Sophie, as if painting an oblong bubble around her. She looked to her right and swatted her hand in the air. A portal opened and a Leviathan, gnashing its teeth in its gaping mouth, charged at Sophie. Cas lunged toward it, fear for Sophie and horrible memories clouding his mind, but Carwyn held him back with a finger. The monster shrieked in frustration as it attempted to maul Sophie through the golden light. It was unable to reach her. When it turned toward Castiel, recognition coloring its ghastly features, Carwyn shifted the energy and snuffed the creature, leaving only a spark that burned into a white smoke that dissipated quickly.

“Protection is one of the functions of this connection energy,” she remarked simply. Castiel stared at her with huge eyes; Sophie gasped and panted. Cas moved to her side and put an arm around her. The light burned brighter with their contact.

“Another,” she continued, “is the ability to redeem or eliminate.”

Cas looked at her sharply. “The Leviathan… you…”

“Redeemed it,” she shrugged through waves of glossy curls.

“How?” Cas asked, incredulously.

“The energy of love allows you to see inside another, Castiel. It’s not always about killing, is it?”

“No, of course not. We do not kill if we do not have to.” He finished softly, “I don’t enjoy killing.”

“No, you don’t,” she agreed. “Harnessing the energy of those who love you, of those who wish you well, of those who ask for peace, et cetera, will allow you to mold and shape that energy into anything you need. Whether that is a shield,” she said, gesturing to Sophie, “or a spiritual litmus test,” she pointed to where the Leviathan disappeared, “or a weapon, if necessary.”

“So I can use the energy between Sophie and me to fight Marou and the Antichrist?” Cas stepped forward and reclaimed the ball of light from Carwyn. He stroked it like a cat.

She smiled and shook her head. “Not yet. You need a good deal of training. Your fear and residual doubt would have killed Sophie and you.”

He said with more confidence than he felt, “I don’t doubt.”

She smiled. “You doubt a little. But you won’t.” She approached him as she said, “Castiel, you will possess more strength than you have ever known. Your Dean jokes about the power of love because he is afraid, but he does not need to fear. Love is not the Lifeforce because it is weak.” She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze.

Castiel looked around. Sophie was nowhere to be seen. They were back in the field by the stream where Castiel had learned how to answer prayers. Blue sky tinged with pinks and purples met the horizon. Cool water bubbled around their bare feet. Carwyn held her open hand out to him. He saw two gleaming objects in her palm. He leaned forward.

Rings. Two identical rings made of some metal Castiel didn’t know, but looked similar to platinum. The bands were thick, smooth, and simple, with some sort of engraving on the inside that Cas couldn’t read. They seemed to writhe in her hand.

“They are looking for you,” Carwyn said to his perplexed expression.

“I’m sorry?” he replied.

“These rings were forged with pieces of energy from you, your beloved, and me,” Carwyn explained simply. “They recognize you and they want you.”

Carwyn raised her arm slightly, indicating to Castiel that he should take them. Gingerly, reverently, he picked up one of the rings and examined it. It was the only piece of jewelry he’d ever coveted.

“Put it on.”

“Which finger?”

“Whichever you’d like.”

He slid the ring on his left hand, on the finger second from the left from his perspective. It fit perfectly. He instantly felt like he’d regained something he’d been missing. He noted belatedly that the finger he’d chosen was the finger traditionally used to wear wedding rings in the United States.

“Now the other one.”

Again, reverently, he picked up the ring and slid it on, this time on the same finger but on his right hand. He could tell it was connected to the ring he wore on his left hand, but it didn’t seem to belong to his hand the way the other did. He raised his eyes to Carwyn questioningly. She didn’t answer the question she knew he had.

“These rings are imbued with the energy of the bond you and your light-mate share. They will help you conduct the energy you will gather from all of your sources and use that energy in the way most needed at the time. They are powerful. Do not take either of them off until you are compelled to do so.”

Cas didn’t bother to hide his concern. “Compelled by what?”

She caressed his jaw, the stubble bristling her hand. “Compelled by love, darling. Now come. We should get back to Sophie.” She squeezed his hand and they emerged before Sophie as if no time had lapsed.

Sophie spoke up, unaware that they had disappeared. “Is this training gonna be like _Karate Kid_? ‘Cause that would be cool. Cas, you’re gonna look like one of those circus performers who plays with fire.” She jostled his shoulder with hers. “You are gonna kick ass.”

Still shaken by the gift of the rings he now wore, he raised his brows at her and tilted his head. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

Sophie noticed the rings on his fingers. “Cas…”

Carwyn raised her arm and circled her hand in an infinity symbol, and they were no longer in the garden. Sophie had no idea where they were, but Cas knew without looking. The air buzzed with the faint residue of initial fear, worthlessness, and impassivity that had segued into the connection that surpassed all and made Castiel’s light bloom. In this place, he thought he had been at his most powerful. It had been a thin veneer for the vulnerability that quickly rushed in, but had also been a spark for the devotion yet to come.

“What’s with the graffiti?” Sophie asked as she soaked in the gray walls with innumerable signs and symbols painted around them.

Cas trembled slightly as he absorbed the emotion of the old barn.

“This is where Castiel and his Dean were reunited again on Earth after he rescued him from Hell,” Carwyn explained, “and where Castiel will do his training.”

Sophie grimaced. She reached out and grasped Castiel’s hand, trying to be supportive but not knowing what to say or do. “Wow,” she said. “Memories, huh?”

He pursed his lips. “Yes.”

“Why here?”

“Castiel knows,” Carwyn answered, capturing his eyes with hers. He shivered.

A tiny mote of light descended toward Castiel. A prayer. On instinct, he reached out with a finger and focused on it until it unfurled. He remembered to allow his grace to expand and contract, to focus on the intent, and to give the gifts needed for the prayer to be answered. He was startled as he felt the prayer wrap around his finger. Carwyn smiled, already suspecting what was happening. Sophie stared, fascinated.

“It’s a prayer for me,” he whispered, shocked.

“Of course it is, Castiel,” Carwyn replied. “You will receive many of them here. This is where you will learn to harness the love in these intentions and work with it. This is the direct result of your outreach work. You are loved, Castiel, and your own intentions are becoming the intentions of the world, even as it struggles.”

“I am loved,” he murmured as he and Sophie marveled at the sight of hundreds of sparks falling around him, covering him like pollen covered parked cars in the spring. He smiled and closed his eyes as he raised his face to the prayers that warmed him like sunshine.

Beside him, Carwyn laid a hand on Sophie’s back, preparing to bid her goodbye, and captured her gaze. “Thank you, Sophie, for being here for Castiel. I chose you to start this process for him because your heart is so open. Clearly, you were a wonderful choice.”

“Thank you. It was amazing,” Sophie replied, and meant it.

As Carwyn sent her back, Sophie just glimpsed one particle land on Castiel’s eyelashes that shone brighter than the rest. She had no time to ask about it.

Cas reached for the shiny speck, but stopped and felt its pulsing light delivering its prayer. Castiel answered the prayer as the light was washed down his face through his silent tears.

“Dean prayed for me. He prayed for my well-being,” Cas rasped as a wave of emotions threatened to drown him.

Carwyn embraced him. “Come. You and I have much to do.”

And on a lumpy mattress under threadbare sheets in Rockwood, Texas, Dean slept a little more soundly that night.

__________________

Poem referenced in this chapter:

_i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)_ by e.e. cummings

 


	15. The Hunter and the Hunted

Hunting was dirty, exhausting, often thankless work, and no one was lining up at the recruitment office to sign up for it. Dean sometimes wished he hadn’t, either, but to be honest, it hadn’t exactly been voluntary. He was drafted into it and didn’t know much else. Although he’d taken a stab at a “normal” life, the itch never went away, and it felt like he had been going through the motions rather than really living. He hadn’t been living an authentic life, some self-help inspirational guru would’ve told him. Can something really be authentic if you didn’t choose it for yourself? Is this life he’s living now any more authentic than that year in suburbia?

_Damn, I hate stakeouts. Too much time to think._

Thinking seemed like all he ever did these days. He thought about Sam, who was happier than he’d ever seen him and was currently sleeping, mouth agape and drooling, next to him. Sam, who probably wouldn’t be doing any of this business if not for Dean, but who stayed anyway. Sam, who was getting married. He didn’t know what would happen then and refused to acknowledge that he cared about it. He thought about Sophie, who was annoying as hell sometimes but only because she was the good twin to Dean’s evil one. Sophie, a firecracker, sharp and caring and funny and perfect for Sam. Sophie, who had her own tragic story but managed to embrace the rainbow instead of the rain. He thought about his mother, raised from the dead, and mourned the loss of the woman who cut the crust off his sandwiches and celebrated the badass woman who loved him even after all the lost years. He thought about his father, the son of a bitch who made him grow up too fast but gave him a purpose. He thought about Bobby, the man whose rough exterior belied a tender heart, who cared enough to teach him how to fish and play ball and how to survive this crazy job. And that’s all it was, wasn’t it? Really, it was just a job. It wasn’t a life. But he had made it his life, and he thought maybe it was time to figure out why he did that.

And he thought about Cas. And Cas was too big a subject to think about with any clarity.

So he sat, numbly, staring into the night at a house in some part of the country he never would’ve visited otherwise, waiting for something terrible to happen. _A nice metaphor for my life._ The teen had been bullied at school, called out as “the weird kid” for saying his house was haunted by the screams of his dead sister. _Huh, if those other kids only knew what weird stuff was out there._ Demons had been sniffing around, too. When they’d interviewed the kid earlier, they smelled sulfur. His mom hadn’t been home yet, and the kid didn’t want her to know what was going on, thus the stakeout. They were hoping to take care of this with as little disruption to the kid’s mom as possible, as she was grieving the loss of her daughter.

Other strange little things – fights at several funeral parlors, rioting in the tiny downtown area where you didn’t have to pay to park, and an uptick of police complaints about feuding neighbors – indicated that not all was well in the town of Eunice, Louisiana, population 10,000, give or take. Sam was concerned about these little occurrences, but Dean had filed it under the categories _Shit Happens_ and _Not Our Problem_ in his mind.

... _Dean_ …

He was so lost in thought he didn’t notice the pistol at his temple until it was too late.

“Who are you and why are you here?” growled a denim and leather clad woman, hair tied in a messy ponytail.

Dean put his hands up in surrender. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he tried to assure her. She pulled his door open and he kept his hands visible as he stepped out. Sam slept on. Dean stood leaning against his car, thinking quickly about how he could get this woman to lower her weapon.

“I said, who are you and why are you here?”

“I’m Detective Keith, the man sleeping through all this is my partner, Detective Hannon,” he fumbled, trying to be charming and calm and remember the aliases they were using this trip.

… _Dean… use caution_ …

“And?” she urged, not moving her gun from its position in front of his chest.

“And we are working undercover, ma’am. Police business,” he tried to say with more swagger than he felt. This woman was not letting up and was staring a hole into his skull.

“Bullshit. You’re hunters. And this case is mine,” she growled.

That surprised Dean. He’d never seen this particular hunter before, and he’d been in the business a long time. She was physically attractive, he thought absently – dirty blond hair, full lips, fair skin, muscular – not really his type, but hard to forget regardless. He felt like he needed to mollify her somehow. She was definitely putting off an aggressive vibe and he didn’t like it.

“Hey, I’m sure we’re all after the same thing, then. Let me wake up my partner and we can talk,” he said as he pounded on the window. Sam didn’t stir.

“Yes, I think we are after the same thing,” she snarled. This woman had no intention of playing nice. It dawned on Dean that not only were they not after the same thing, but they may not even be talking about the same thing. He had to figure out how to get the hell out of this situation.

“What’s your name?” he asked as if talking to a spooked child lost in a store.

“I can and should kill you right now.” Her gaze never wavered from his eyes, and her gun never wavered from his chest. “But that wouldn’t be much fun.”

“Listen, ma’am, we just want to help this kid out and leave. Sounds like a standard salt and burn, with maybe….” He wasn’t sure he should continue. “Christo,” he said instead.

“I’m not a demon, you twit,” the woman sneered.

“There’s been demon activity here,” he said, determining he had nothing to lose.

The woman walked to within inches of Dean’s face. He felt the weapon press against his sternum. “Really? Huh.”

“Who are you?” Dean demanded.

“I’m no one to be trifled with,” she replied, voice seductive and terrifying. With her boots, she was nearly his height, and he felt her breath against his mouth. He remembered that same line from _The Princess Bride_ but didn’t think he should mention it and tick her off. Her breath, though hot, had chilled him.

… _Pray_ …

“If you’re a hunter, then you should care about what’s going on in there,” he said, pointing to the house and trying to return her steely gaze.

“It’s too late for them, Dean Winchester,” she smiled eerily. “You failed.” His face contorted into confusion. He hadn’t told her his name, and as far as he could tell, nothing had happened in the house. He swallowed. Something was very wrong here. Guilt flooded his gut.

“Besides,” she continued, breaking him out of his stupor, “I didn’t say what – or who – I was hunting.”

Realization dawned on him. “Why me?” he choked.

She leaned forward, touching her lips to his. “Because you have something I want. However, I’m open to negotiation,” she purred, pressing herself shoulders-to-hips into him.

… _to your Castiel_ …

Dean, not knowing what else to do or why he thought to do it, started praying to Cas, asking him to come, knowing he wasn’t at full angel power and couldn’t actually do so.

“Damn you, Dean Winchester. Not yet!” she shrieked. She shoved him to the ground and ran off just as Cas appeared beside him.

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asked, panic in his voice that made its way to the grip on Dean’s shoulder. Shoulders, plural, now. Cas pulled him up and planted himself in front of Dean. He nodded dumbly, drinking in the fact that _Cas_ was _here_. Warm hands kneaded his shoulders as Cas stared into Dean’s eyes intently, doing what Dean called his soul-reading stare. He didn’t know if that’s what his angel was actually doing when he did it, but it felt like it. It always made him feel like he was peeling Dean’s clothes off, making him vulnerable and desired at the same time. He tried hard not to think of it that way, ever. He also tried hard not to think of him as _his angel_.

“What’s going on?” Sam called over the top of the Impala, interrupting the staredown. His faced was marked with saliva and the impressions of his sleeve from where he’d been sleeping. His eyes were still a little droopy, but perked up quickly upon seeing Castiel. “How the hell did you get here?” he asked him.

“I… don’t really know,” Cas said, breaking eye contact with Dean but keeping one hand on his left shoulder, maintaining physical contact. “Dean prayed for me, and I came.”

“I thought you couldn’t do your angel teleporting anymore,” Dean said, shaking the cobwebs from his mind and finding his voice. He realized he was clinging to the front of Cas’ tired trench coat. Flustered, he dropped it and his hand, still curled, fell hard into his thigh. Castiel took this as his cue, and he slid his hand slowly away from Dean’s shoulder and down his arm as he released him just below the elbow. Dean immediately missed the contact.

Cas looked back and forth to the brothers and said, “I couldn’t. I don’t know how I did it.”

They all puzzled silently over this for a moment before Castiel said, “Why did you call me, Dean?” Sam and Cas turned expectantly. Dean inhaled a deep breath of night-cooled air.

“There was… a hunter, or someone… I don’t know. That’s what she said at first. Well, that’s what she wanted me to think, I guess. She said this was her case, but I think… I _know_ she was lying. She held a gun to my head – and thanks a lot for waking up, Sam! – and she knew we were hunters, and… oh God, Jack!” Dean broke into a sprint toward the house, remembering that the woman had said it was “too late” for the teen and his mother. Sam and Cas followed on his heels.

Dean yelled for Jack and rattled the doorknob on the crumbling Victorian home. By the time Sam and Cas caught up, Dean was throwing his body shoulder-first into the weathered wood. It wouldn’t budge.

“Move,” Castiel warned as light emanated from his outstretched hand. The door fell forward and shattered under the force. Sam and Dean rushed inside in time to see Jack’s mother in the kitchen, holding the teen’s back against her chest, knife at his throat. Her eyes shifted to black. Sam attempted to speak to Jack’s mother through the demon, asking her to fight, as Dean began to mutter the exorcism under his breath.

“Stop that, or he dies!” the demon screamed at Dean, ignoring Sam’s pleading. “Drop your weapons!” Sam and Dean slowly dropped the demon knives they’d grabbed instinctually on their way to the house and backed off slowly.

“Why are you doing this?” Sam whispered.

The demon had no time to answer as Castiel approached from behind. He spread one of his hands against the chest and neck of Jack’s mother and pressed the other one to her head. The familiar burst of lethal power spilled around the angel’s right hand as the demon died. Cas caught the mother as she pitched forward, sending Jack stumbling to the linoleum as she released him. The brothers had been hoping not to kill the boy’s mother, but realized Cas did what he had to do to keep the teen safe. Sam and Dean ran to him, asking if he was okay. Before they could console him for the loss of his mother and explain what happened, his mother shuffled and kneeled next to him, crying and rocking him in her arms. The brothers had the same question as they shared a look: how had Cas done that without killing her? When they looked up to ask him, they saw him sitting on the floor, talking quietly to Jack’s sister – his dead sister. They heard _warning_ and _peace_ and _thank you_ and _it’s okay to leave now_. They saw a joyful smile on her face as the preschooler disappeared.

Dean left Sam to explain demon possession and haunting to the family as he approached Castiel. He leaned against the wall, a beatific smile playing on his lips as he sat with his eyes closed. He took a moment to simply take in the sight: same dress shoes, same dress pants, no jacket or tie, white shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal the dip between his collarbones, and the trench coat Dean couldn’t imagine living without. Same lean frame, same long fingers (with some sort of ash on them), same stubble, same pink lips, same dark lashes, same dark tousled hair. But a different energy, somehow. It was even more exhilarating and attractive than usual and he did not want to think about that. “Cas.”

He opened one eye, the smile becoming slightly wider. “Dean.” Same startling blue eyes. Same heart-stopping voice.

Dean swallowed and tried to focus. _Damn, it’s been a long night._ “Uh…what the hell happened? How did you do that?”

He lifted his hand in a “help me up” gesture (although he really didn’t need help considering he just ganked a demon, but hey, Dean wasn’t going to argue). Dean grasped his hand, warm and dry to Dean’s clammy one, and pulled him to standing.

“Let’s talk about it in the car,” he said, glancing at the family on the floor and nodding his head to Dean. He agreed. Cas walked to the mother and son, who both looked glassy-eyed and bewildered, and said, “Everything should be alright now. Aubree was trying to warn Jack about the demon. Now that you are out of danger, she is at peace and she hopes you will be, too.”

Jack’s mother smiled through watery eyes. “Thank you…” she hesitated, seeking his name.

“Castiel,” he provided.

“Castiel?” Jack repeated. “I heard Aubree say that name.”

No one knew what to make of that.

After they said their goodbyes and warded the family’s home, the brothers and their angel piled into the car, grateful to be heading home.

Exhaustion crept into the corners of Dean’s vision as he settled into the passenger seat. Dean didn’t trust himself to drive, not with everything that went down and the fatigue he felt. Besides, he mused, the gargantuan Sleeping Beauty was more than ready to tackle it. Dean needed some rest. But first…

“So, Cas, the teleporting.”

Cas turned from the window to face Dean. “Yes.”

“How?”

“As I said, I don’t know. I just heard your prayer and…I broke through whatever barrier had been stopping me from flying.”

“Like a physical barrier or a mental one?” Sam chimed in.

“Hmm. Well, it appears it may have been a mental one.” He pondered the thought some more, then proceeded, cautiously, “Well, Carwyn did say there would be several unexpected consequences….”

“Of what?” the brothers asked together.

“Of my training. Particularly of the self-forgiveness and self-love ones.”

They frowned thoughtfully.

“Self-love, Cas?” Dean asked with a small smirk, knowing the timing was inappropriate but unable to help himself. Sam shoved him in the shoulder and Cas rolled his eyes.

Sam asked, “So, you think because you forgave yourself, that it loosened something up somehow?”

“Well,” Cas started, thinking out loud slowly, “Carwyn did say that love was freedom. Perhaps my fallen, damaged status was self-imposed, and when I forgave myself and loved myself again, it freed me.”

Silence fell over the car as they considered this idea. Sam pulled into a 24-hour gas station to fill up. Except for the bored clerk behind the bulletproof glass in the store, they were alone. Sam filled the tank as Dean paid for the gas and grabbed a couple of snacks. Castiel continued to meditate on this new idea. Had his fall really been of his own making? Was he a full angel again?

As if reading his thoughts, Sam knocked on the window. “Get out for a sec,” he demanded. Cas stepped out of the vehicle without question. Sam beckoned him to the back of the store, which abutted a patchy field. Dean jogged toward them, curious about what was going on.

“Can you manifest your wings?” Sam asked when he was sure no one was around but them. “Maybe they’ll give us a clue. You know, as to whether you’re back to your full angel self.”

Castiel stood before the two most important men in his life – once his charges, now his friends – and concentrated. Ethereal shadows emerged from behind him that left their mouths agape and eyes wide. Castiel could feel the difference in them, but turned to look at them anyway. They were no longer shredded rags. The wings were full, gigantic, breathtaking things. Dean remembered how they looked when he saw Cas in the barn in Pontiac and shivered. These wings before him were larger, powerful, awe-inspiring. Cas caught Dean’s eyes when he looked away from his wings, and they stared at each other. Castiel basked in the green meadow; Dean floated in the blue sea. Memories washed through the space between them and charged the air. Castiel thought of the raw energy between them that night. Dean thought of how much has changed between them – Castiel, the mighty angel, was now Cas, his best friend, his family.

Sam cleared his throat and broke their trance. “Uh, wow,” he said.

“Uh, yeah, those wings, huh?” Dean stammered.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, then more quietly, “yeah, those too.”

Cas strode forward to make his way back to the car, just brushing Dean’s shoulder as he passed. Dean felt Sam’s “we’re going to talk about this” look and ignored it.

The tension between the brothers was still palpable when they reached the car. “So, Dean,” Cas started as he opened the door to slide in the back. He was surprised when Dean nudged him and slid in the seat next to him rather than sit in the front. He decided not to question it, asking instead, “who do you think this hunter really was?”

Dean’s mind was drawn back to his confrontation with the woman, which in his tired state seemed like a lifetime ago. “Uh, she had said I failed in protecting Jack and his mother. I guess she was bluffing, maybe? Or trying to distract me? I don’t know. They seemed fine. Well, other than demon possession.” Panic spiked in his gut. “Did they seem fine to you guys? Did I miss something?”

“I believe everything was resolved, Dean,” Cas assured him. “I didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary once the demon left Jack’s mother and her daughter left.”

Dean sighed heavily, relieved. “Yeah, okay, that’s what I thought, too.”

“Did she say anything else?” Sam called from the front.

“She said I have something she wanted, but that we could negotiate.” Dean shuddered involuntarily.

“What do you have? Did she say?”

“No, Sam, she didn’t say and I didn’t ask. She was pissed and she was holding a gun to my heart. And why the hell didn’t you wake up?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I guess I was just tired.”

Cas, who had been listening quietly, said, “Perhaps you were made to sleep through this confrontation.” They waited for him to continue. “Perhaps this woman wanted Dean to be vulnerable. Or maybe to give him some sort of message. A warning. Or a threat.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go with threat, there, Cas,” Dean said. “She was pissed that I prayed to you, I think. I don’t know how she knew I did, though. I don’t think I said it out loud. She cursed at me and said something about ‘not yet’ and blinked out.”

Cas frowned, brows knitted in thought. He exhaled and closed his eyes.

“Dean,” he said, “I think you met Marou.”

__________________

Movie referenced in this chapter:

 _The Princess Bride_ by Act III Communications, Buttercup Films, and The Princess Bride, Ltd.

 


	16. Freudian Slips

Although it was cheaper to drive through the night, too much had happened that night for the brothers to care about the cost. They pulled into one of the hole-in-the-wall motels on the way back to Lebanon. Cas had popped out of the room, saying he was going to check on Sophie to let her know what was happening and to make sure she was unharmed. Dean watched him blink out and was surprised when a hint of – sadness? regret? annoyance? – peeked through his exhaustion. _Great. Now Sam’ll get to interrogate me and I’ll have no one here to deflect it._ Dean skirted Sam’s meaningful looks as he slipped into the bathroom, grateful for a shower even at two in the morning. Marou – if it was her – had unsettled him. This was the angel who could destroy it all. Destroy the world. Destroy Cas’ beloved. Destroy Cas. No matter how jealous Dean was of Cas’ light-mate, he didn’t want her destroyed. That would hurt Cas, and no one was going to do that. Not on his watch.

_No, not jealous of his light-mate. Since when the hell am I jealous of someone Cas wants to be with?_ He shook the thought out of his head, sending droplets of water into the shower wall and cheap PVC curtain. He tried to think of a song to hum as the spray pounded down on his back ( _at least there’s good water pressure_ ) but nothing came to him. He tried to “empty his mind,” something that Sam tried to teach him when he was on his meditation kick, but the thoughts flooded in as soon as the path was clear.

_Damn, even the awkward angel of the Lord gets to have someone to love. Who could she be? Someone he’s close to, obviously. How many other humans does he hang out with besides us?_ As far as Dean knew, it was really just him, Sam, and Sophie. _Sophie? No. They’re friends. He wouldn’t betray Sam. Neither would she. But is it really betrayal if they didn’t realize they were light-mates, if their minds had been erased?_ He couldn’t quite wrap his head around that one, although they were much more affectionate with each other than he and Cas had ever been. _Duh, stupid._ They had hugged a few times, but neither of them were really touchy-feely. Were they? Maybe Cas was more touchy-feely than he knew?

Sam pounded on the door and yelled at Dean to leave him some damn hot water. Dean considered staying in until it turned cold, just to jibe at his brother, but decided against it and shut the water off. He emerged from the bathroom, thin white towel around his waist. “You’re up,” he said as he jabbed his thumb behind him toward the open bathroom door. Sam squinted at him.

“What?”

“Do you have shampoo in your hair? Dude, you have shampoo in your hair.”

In his reverie, he hadn’t noticed that he forgot to rinse out the shampoo from his hair.

“Ah, crap,” he muttered, turning to head back into the bathroom. Sam darted by him, shouting “Nope!” as he slammed the door behind him.

“Sammy!” Dean shouted back, then muttered “Bitch” under his breath.

He turned to find a fresh pair of boxers in his duffel, dropping his towel to the matted avocado carpet when he found them. Of course Cas chose that time to zap himself back into the room.

“Dude! Personal space!” Dean gasped as he scrambled to pick up something to cover himself. The boxers had been dropped in his surprise, and nothing seemed to stay in his trembling hands.

“I’m several feet from you, Dean,” Cas replied with some squinty-eyed confusion and a small tilt of his head. He looked at Dean curiously. “How much space do you need?”

“I just – you know what, never mind,” Dean spluttered as he managed to pull his red boxer briefs over his hips. He looked at Cas, who still had the head tilt but was eyeing him like he wanted to devour him. Or maybe that was Dean’s imagination. He felt certain his face was the same shade as the Calvin Klein skivvies he was wearing (yeah, they’d been an indulgence, but every man is allowed some). He could feel his pulse pounding, and he willed himself to slow his breathing. The guy had startled the hell out of him, clearly.

Cas worked hard not to look, he really did, and when he did look he tried to make it what the humans called “casual.” The human form was not really of much interest to him, generally speaking. However, he had knitted this man back together, weaving molecules into place with his own grace, which had hummed in response to his touch. He had enveloped this human’s soul in his grace until its body was ready to contain it again. Although Dean had always given Castiel the credit for rescuing him from Hell, Cas knew he couldn’t have done it without the strength they gave each other. He thought perhaps the appeal of Dean’s physical form might be in part because of the hand he had in making it. Or, more likely, it was because Dean’s soul shone so brightly it illuminated his light skin, his rare smile, his warm verdant eyes. He sensed he’d been staring too long and maybe had lost the air of indifference he’d wanted to demonstrate.

He was about to turn away when Dean said, “Hey, take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Castiel furrowed his brows. “You want me to take a photograph of you in your undergarments? I didn’t think that was a customary practice.”

Dean smirked at his friend’s literalness and, before he could stop the words from flying out, replied, “You gotta buy me dinner first.” Cas’ eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. _Oh God, please let the earth open up and swallow me now._

“Just a joke, Cas, a joke,” Dean laughed haltingly. He sounded ridiculous to himself. “How’s Sophie?”

Dean was relieved when Cas picked up the cue and dropped the awkwardness of the last two minutes. “She’s well. She is concerned about you and Sam, but is otherwise fine.”

“Good, good,” Dean replied. He concentrated on pretending to look for something in his bag.

“I startled her when I showed up in front of her. I forgot she hadn’t seen me fly before.” Cas chuckled. “She was rather amazed by the ability, though, and begged me for a ‘ride.’” He crooked his fingers in air quotes and shook his head fondly.

“Well, you’re a pretty amazing ride, Cas.” _Oh my God._ “I mean, you’re a pretty amazing guy.” _No… yes, but no…._ “I mean, it’s a cool ability. I mean, I’m not a fan of it, but, you know, it’s efficient.” _Okay, I would really appreciate some sort of meteor hit on this motel right now._

Cas nodded at Dean carefully and said “Yes” slowly, not taking his eyes off him, like Dean was a wild animal Cas was trying not to aggravate. Or worse, one he was trying to understand.

Sam chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed for bed ( _smart bastard_ ), steam filling the doorway as he stepped through. Dean had never been so grateful. He jumped through the doorway and rinsed his hair, still soapy with shampoo, in the tiny sink.

“Hey, is Sophie alright?” Sam asked when Dean emerged from the bathroom a minute later.

“Yes, she’s fine, Sam. She asked me to deliver you a message.” Cas shifted back and forth on his feet, looking at the wall.

“Okayyyy…”

Cas rolled his eyes so hard his head followed suit. He walked up to Sam and cleared his throat. He wrapped Sam in a brief, uncomfortable hug, then kissed his cheek, pulled away while still holding his arms, and said, “Honey Bear loves her Sweetie Pie. Sleep tight.” Cas nearly tripped as he backed off quickly, message delivered. He looked mortified. Dean roared with laughter as Sam smiled, shaking his head.

“Just like that, huh?” Sam now laughed earnestly at Cas’ clear discomfort.

“She threatened me and told me I had to deliver it exactly as she showed me.” The brothers laughed harder, feeling a little punchy with fatigue, as Cas folded his arms and scowled at them.

“Threatened you with what? You’re an angel, Cas!” Sam collapsed on the bed, giggles still erupting from his lips as he rubbed his eyes.

He scowled harder. “Never mind that. You two should get some sleep. You clearly need it and we need to get an early start.”

The men rolling around like 10-year-old boys agreed. They mumbled apologies, afraid they might’ve hurt Castiel’s feelings, and climbed into bed.

“I’ll watch over you,” Castiel said quietly as he sat at the tiny table by the door.

Instead of refusal or a snarky response, Dean replied, “Thanks, man.” He hated to admit it, because it felt like weakness, but… after everything, it made him feel a little better to know Cas was there. The brothers bade him goodnight.

In the dark, just before they dropped off, Dean started snickering. Sam muffled his own laughter into his pillow.

“I will smite you both in your sleep,” Cas growled.

They laughed harder before finally wringing out their mirth enough to go to sleep. Cas shook his head fondly at them as he settled in for the night.

 


	17. Notes Show That You Care

Dean found Cas outside the bunker, staring at the trees, whose leaves were painted in shades of red and gold. A crisp smokiness hung in the air. He hadn’t panicked – really, he hadn’t – but was nevertheless glad to find his best friend in the entire world just outside, soaking up the October view. Cas had been talkative in the front seat while Dean was driving and Sam was sleeping on the way back from the motel that morning and afternoon. Dean had taken Sophie’s advice about asking Cas things about himself, things he hadn’t bothered asking before. He asked him things like his favorite human food (Dean’s burgers, thank you very much), his favorite animal (“all of them”), some of his adventures on Earth before Dean (and _whoa_ , he’d seen a lot), musical instruments he played (“I can play all of them, Dean” “Yeah, but you have nice piano fingers” “Thank you”), and some of his favorite places on Earth (his Father’s creation was all beautiful, but he particularly enjoyed Patagonia, Kauai, the Northern Lights in Iceland, and, surprisingly, their lake – that’s what he had called it).

“If you’re worried about what Sophie said, you don’t have to be, Dean,” Cas had told him. “You know the important things about me.”

“I know,” Dean had answered, “but it’s kinda fun getting to know you this way, too.”

Cas had given Dean a smile he couldn’t get out of his mind for the rest of the day.

No one really wanted to talk about Marou and what was next, but it had to be done. It just seemed like no one was motivated to do it tonight. Sam had decided to surprise Sophie with an early dinner (they may have arrived for the senior hour specials, which suited Sophie just fine since she’d worked through her lunch). Cas had disappeared into the greenhouse for a while. Dean stuffed his face full of nachos and watched some of the Cops marathon playing on TV. It was fruitless, though. After a while, his thoughts drifted back to Marou, which of course made his thoughts drift back to Cas and this beloved and their lifetimes of missed opportunities. It made him think of his own missed opportunities. He guessed it was probably too late now. Maybe. But then again, what if it wasn’t? What if he could somehow…? _Okay, no._ He couldn’t. Or shouldn’t, anyway. But man, he was tired of the things he shouldn’t do ruling his life.

“Hey,” he greeted Castiel.

Cas turned to face the best friend he’d ever made on Earth – a man who taught him about free will and sacrifice and family. And more. Whether he knew it or not.

“Hello Dean.”

Dean warmed at the tiny Cas smile he received. They stood in silence for a short time.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Cas asked suddenly.

“Um, a walk. Uh, yeah, sure.” He hadn’t just gone for a walk with another person for a long time. Maybe ever.

They started to walk away from the bunker and toward a wooded area not far from the fields that surrounded them. Dean was slightly ahead of Cas, affording Cas an opportunity to watch the line of Dean’s body, from his calves and thighs straining against his worn jeans, to the leather jacket skirting his hips, to his broad shoulders that carried the weight of the world, to his face, backlit against the fading autumn light, beautiful yet uncertain whether he should relax or scan for danger. Cas wondered if he would ever lose that look. He wondered whether he could ever take that look away from Dean for longer than a few moments. He wondered if…

Dean felt Cas suddenly catch up and then stride past him a bit, like he was in a hurry though they had no particular place to go. He stopped at a small stream just inside the wooded area. Cas hunched down and rested his left hand on his knee while he wiggled the fingers of his right hand as the water lapped them. The filtered light through the trees caught Castiel’s eyes and lit the cobalt irises. He wasn’t wearing his trench coat and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, giving him that “hot office worker taking a Zen break in the woods during his lunch hour” look. _Okay, not hot. Stop that._

It was when Dean kneeled next to him that he noticed the ring on Castiel’s left hand. His breathing stuttered and his gut clenched. How long had he been wearing that?

“Uh, Cas?” He tried to sound nonchalant. “What’s with the ring?”

“Oh, these?” He held out both hands, wet and dry next to each other. “Carwyn gave them to me. They are going to help me harness the energy I will need to face Marou and her… cronies.”

Dean chuckled a little too loudly at the use of the word “cronies.” His body released the sense of dread it had held only a moment before. “Ah,” he said, “I thought you’d gone off and married that light-mate of yours.” He nudged Cas with his elbow, trying to make light of the fear curling in his stomach.

Cas gave him a head-tilt and a look of confusion. “Dean, if I were to marry my light-mate, you would undoubtedly know about it. It would not be a secret from you, of all people.”

Dean’s heart warmed at Cas’ declaration that of course he would tell Dean. They were friends, after all. Best friends. He refused to think of everything else that declaration would or could mean.

Instead of thinking, the friends silently regarded each other. Cas absently twisted the ring on his right hand. Dean flicked between Cas’ eyes and the ring. Without realizing, he reached toward it.

Cas held out his right hand for Dean to examine the band. Dean scrutinized it first with the eye of an archaeologist, looking at the ring from different angles, then from the eye of a lover, caressing it gently under his index finger.

“Isn’t that a little annoying?” Dean asked, still stroking the ring.

“What?”

“The vibrating,” he replied. “Your ring is vibrating. Real low, like it’s humming or something.”

Cas touched it, his hand accidentally brushing against Dean’s.

“It only happens sometimes,” Cas said quietly. He caught Dean’s eyes before they flicked back to the ring.

Dean cleared his throat. “What happens now that you’re on full angel status again?” he said, breaking the spell and changing the subject as he stood up. He brushed the dirt off his knees as Cas, standing to join him, asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, now that you can just flit away, are we gonna see you around?” Dean tried to sound casual and hide the anxiety from his voice.

“I hadn’t planned to. Flit away, that is. Well, I will have to, of course. I will need to speak to some of the angels eventually. And I think I will need to speak to other humans as well at some point. I am doing some of the videos, but Sam said I may need to ‘press some flesh.’ I hope that is just some euphemism with which I am unfamiliar.”

A spark of jealousy burned in Dean’s chest before he figured out Sam’s meaning. “I think, since we’re sort of seeing this as a political thing, he means you’re going to have to meet people in person. ‘Press some flesh’ means shaking hands.” _That is what Sam meant, right? Had to be._

“Oh, I see.” A small, embarrassed smile crept onto Castiel’s face. “Many of your American phrases have some sexual connotation to them. I was hoping this wasn’t one of them. I can’t say I was prepared to go out and do that.”

A laugh burst out of Dean as he imagined what Cas’ mind had conjured. He slapped Cas on the back. “Yeah, that happens in politics, too, man, but you won’t be doing that in this case.” Dean continued to laugh uncontrollably, releasing the tension of the last few days. Cas snickered along with him, as tickled by Dean’s response as by his own misinterpretation.

After a few minutes, Cas elaborated the answer to Dean’s original question. “Dean,” he said seriously, “if you wanted me to let you know before I leave, all you had to do was ask. I assumed it didn’t matter to you.”

Dean grew serious as well and said, “Well yeah, Cas, it matters. I… uh, we worry, you know? So… yeah, if you could let us know, leave a note or something….” Dean shrugged and toed at some dried leaves.

Cas leaned into Dean, hand on his shoulder. “Dean. If you would like me to leave you a note, I will leave you a note, or inform you in some other way. I… am glad that you are concerned enough about me to want to know where I am.” He slid his hand down and paused where his handprint had been so long ago before he removed himself from Dean’s space. The two fell into an awkward silence.

“However,” he continued with mock seriousness, “I’m going to write it in Enochian, so….”

Dean shoved Cas in the arm playfully. “Ass,” he snickered. Cas shoved back with a smile. He’d been successful at breaking the tension, and Dean was happy again. Castiel was pleased with himself.

Neither had noticed that it had grown dark. There were no streetlights in the area, which made stargazing easy but walking more difficult. Dean turned on the penlight he kept in his pocket to guide them back.

The heat surrounded them the moment they stepped into the bunker.

“Carwyn is here,” Castiel said to Dean as they closed the door behind them. Dean removed his jacket quickly. He was sweating now, though he’d been thinking about coffee and rubbing his hands for warmth only a moment before, on the walk back. He turned to Cas and gestured for him to lead the way. He hadn’t noticed before, but now he caught a quick glance and saw a dusting of pink across Castiel’s face and neck. _Must be from the cold. Guy wasn’t even wearing his coat._

“Castiel, Dean,” she called, “please, join us.”

Carwyn looked like she had also just returned from the walk Dean and Cas had done. Her face was more flush than usual, and her skin glowed. Her dark hair was piled atop her head in some sort of messy bun. Her eyes danced with their usual brightness upon seeing them arrive. The outfit was the same as the one Dean had seen her in when they met in the gray room, with one subtle difference – the blue stone necklace no longer had the pendant. It occurred to him that the pendant had actually been those rings Cas was now wearing. Dean felt that peculiar mix of want and unworthiness in her presence, which intensified when Cas came and stood next to Dean. He toyed with the rings on his fingers and looked restless. Dean stripped off his red corduroy shirt and whipped it to the floor as fast as he could.

“Where were you guys?” Sophie asked curiously. Dean was surprised they were back so soon. He was even more surprised to see Mary, his mother, sitting with them. They hadn’t yet filled her in on the recent developments.

“We went for a walk,” Castiel answered her. He nodded a greeting to Mary, who returned it.

“You got Dean to go for a walk? Like, he willingly did something others might consider exercise or leisure?” Sam asked facetiously as he looked at Dean but questioned Cas.

“Ha ha, shut the hell up,” Dean tossed back. “Damn, I need some water. It’s gotta be 150 degrees in here.”

Mary raised a questioning eyebrow to Sam, who mouthed “tell you later” to her.

When Dean returned and stood next to Castiel, Carwyn cut to the chase.

“It appears you’ve met Marou, Dean?”

“Uh, yeah, we think so,” he responded. He was distracted by a low humming next to him. Castiel thumbed the ring on his right hand.

“I thought she couldn’t find us? Angel warding in our ribs and all that?” Sam cut in.

“You have an angel after you?” Mary asked Dean. He shrugged noncommittally.

“I don’t think she was the one who found you,” Carwyn answered him. “I think it may have been some of her informants. Demons, or perhaps Jesse.”

“Who’s Jesse?” Mary asked.

“Jesse Turner is the Antichrist,” Cas explained as if all families discussed the Antichrist regularly.

“What?”

“Okay, so demons, let’s say. That means either Crowley must know something about this or he’s got some defectors or double agents. Either way, we should probably talk to him,” Dean reasoned.

“I thought you didn’t want the King of Hell knowing about this,” Sam argued.

“Let me worry about that,” his brother argued back.

“We need to plan this out, Dean…”

“Sam, we gotta get some intel, anything, the sooner the better…”

“Would somebody please explain to me what is going on?” Mary shouted.

Carwyn responded quietly, “I’m so sorry, Mary. I was unaware that you didn’t know what was happening. They should have told you. Let me explain.”

When Carwyn finished, Mary leaned back in her seat. “Well damn,” she said. “Um, sorry,” she said to Carwyn.

Carwyn smiled. “Do not apologize. Now, I agree with Sam that we do need to implement another piece of our plan. Supernatural chaos is popping up more and more as the weeks wear on. You’ve probably seen it in the cases you’ve received. I believe Marou, Jesse, and her followers are behind it. They are getting more desperate. So, we need to increase Castiel’s power. We’ll start with Sam and Mary.”

The Winchesters raised their eyebrows. Sophie listened curiously, wiggling in her seat. Cas looked impassive but was now thumbing both rings.

“Are you gonna do what you did with us?” Sophie asked as she gestured between her and Cas. Carwyn nodded as she stood. Dean eyed her, questions brewing in his mind. He wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

“Yes, I am,” she smiled. “It will be more intense because there will be two people there with him who love him. I want him to get used to more energy. He will be harnessing a lot of energy soon, and he will need to become adept at controlling it without becoming overwhelmed.”

“Right. It has to flow through him, right?” Sophie asked.

“That is correct.”

“It’s so cool, Sam. Wait ‘til you see it!” Sophie squealed and squeezed his arm affectionately.

“See what?” Dean asked. He was back on the defensive.

“Where she takes them to do the whole love energy transfer thing or whatever.”

“Whoa, no, I don’t want them leaving….”

“Dean, it’s fine. I was perfectly safe.”

Dean exploded. “That’s what she wanted you to think! She wanted you to think everything was safe and fine and was gonna work out! How do you know she won’t pull the rug out from under you, huh? How do you know you’re not gonna get hurt by _trusting_ her, by _believing_ in all these wonderful things she says and does?”

Sam’s, Sophie’s, and Mary’s puzzled eyes were on Dean as he stood there, flushed and breathing hard. Carwyn’s eyes held no malice, but simply gazed at him gently. He would much prefer that she be pissed at him. Dean felt Cas watching him intensely. He hung his head in shame over his eruption, though distrust still coursed through his blood.

Cas turned him around by his shoulder. “Dean.”

The smooth, deep voice of his best friend felt like an anchor in the storm. Dean didn’t answer him, but Cas knew he had the man’s attention.

“Dean. I would not let anyone hurt your family. _Our_ family. Please trust me. Believe me.”

He was doing that soul-reading thing with his eyes, and the heat from Cas’ hand on his shoulder was almost unbearable, but Dean could not move away, did not want to move away. It filled him with calm and comfort. He didn’t trust Carwyn, but he trusted Castiel. “Okay, Cas. Okay,” he croaked as he patted the hand on his shoulder. He turned back to the group. Castiel’s hand fell away slowly. Dean looked up at his family and Carwyn, but his eyes told them he would not apologize for his outburst.

Carwyn continued on as if there had been no arguments. “So, I will borrow Sam and Mary, if they are willing. I will keep Castiel a bit longer after I return them. Then, I think you will need to start your outreach in earnest.” Carwyn explained that it was time for Castiel to reach out to more people in person, rather than only through social media, though it had proven effective. She continued that it would be important for him to start expressing love in more ways – acts of service, emotional connection, physical connection.

“Physical connection?” Dean asked. He was afraid to know more about that. He couldn’t help but imagine Cas physically connecting with his light-mate, and he was starting to feel a little sick.

“Yes, Dean. He needs to connect with others in all ways. Which means he will need to get out there more. However, Castiel,” she said, looking at Cas playfully as she wore a mock-scolding look, “you will need to show more of yourself. Show others who you are.”

He turned his head toward the floor and rubbed his arm.

Sophie caught the bashful look and stood, grabbing his face and pinching his cheeks. “What’s all this? Do you have a secret wild child in you we don’t know about?”

He backed his face out of her hands. “No, I don’t.” He seemed exasperated.

“All rebels do, Sophie. Don’t they, Castiel?” Carwyn smirked and winked at him. Dean felt uneasy at the gesture, though he recognized that he’d done the same thing to others. When he was flirting. He tamped down the _something_ roiling in his gut and cursed himself out for being stupid.

Cas smiled and shook his head. “I’m just me, Carwyn. They know who I am,” he said, gesturing to Sophie and the Winchesters.

“You hold back, Castiel, and you know it. You are afraid to fully express yourself. You feel you need to be on guard. I believe your Dean called you out on that, didn’t he?” she asked, innocence in her voice but knowing in her eyes. She looked at him pointedly. “The world won’t fall apart if you let go, Castiel.”

Dean jerked his head up and toward Cas as Cas did the same toward Dean. A meaningful look passed between the two, clearly remembering the same thing, and though it was a quick glance and not their typical lingering stare it was caught by Mary. She quirked her eyebrow questioningly as she looked at Dean. Mary reached out to capture Dean’s arm in a reassuring squeeze, but pulled back quickly at the heat rolling off him. Carwyn had explained the fever-like temperature as the effect of unexpressed love. She mulled that over in her mind as she watched Dean and then Castiel.

After a few moments of silence, Carwyn said, “Sam, Mary, are you ready to go?” They nodded their agreement. Cas excused himself for a moment, heading toward the bedrooms. When he returned, Carwyn whisked them away, a lingering light the only evidence they had been there.

Sophie glanced at Dean, who stood staring at the space just occupied by his brother, his mother, and his _whatever_. _He looks so lost._ Sophie approached him and said, “I have a couple of beers, some popcorn, and Bad Lip Reading videos with our names on them. You in?”

He sighed and rubbed his face. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be good.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

“They’ll be okay. I’ll tell you about it if you want. About when I went with them and the training stuff. Although I’m sure you’ll see it for yourself at some point.”

Dean sighed. “I don’t think they’re gonna want me to be part of it. Carwyn knows I don’t trust her. It probably wouldn’t be good for the ‘process.’”

“It’s not for her, Dean. It’s for Cas. He…”

“Doesn’t need a doubting Thomas,” Dean interrupted her.

“No, but he does need you. And you need him.”

Dean folded his arms and scoffed. “I’m not sure what he would get from me.”

Sophie grinned. “Oh, I think you’d be surprised.” Dean stared at her.

“Don’t look at me like that! Come on,” she said as she plunked the beers on the table. “Videos. Beer. We can talk later.”

Two hours later, feeling loose from the alcohol and exhausted from the events of the last few days, he excused himself to go to bed. He didn’t see the note until he pulled back the covers and it fluttered off his pillow. The top portion of the paper was filled with odd symbols that looked like Enochian. The bottom portion, in English, read:

_Dean – The training with Sam and your mother should be relatively short, although I have not engaged in this exercise with two individuals yet. However, I like to think I’m getting better at it. Please do not be worried about your brother and mother. I will take care of them. I will be back by Saturday night at the latest, as we have the Breast Cancer Awareness Walk on Sunday morning. – Castiel_

_Asshole had to write it in Enochian first._ He smiled and dismissed the warmth spreading in his chest. He tucked the note carefully under his clothes in the top drawer of his dresser before he turned off the light and dreamed about Cas releasing balloons and laughing.

 


	18. Who You Are

"The sun isn’t even up yet,” Dean groused as he slogged into the kitchen for coffee, sniffing the air as the ham and eggs fried on the stovetop. He was happy to see someone already poured him a cup and was handing it to him. “You’re the best, Cas. Thanks, babe,” he mumbled appreciatively.

“You’re welcome, dear?” Cas squinted and smiled wryly at Dean.

Dean sat up in bed, confused. Cas was there, yes, and had left him a mug of steaming coffee by his bed. Cas himself was standing near the door, having turned around after he heard Dean muttering in his sleep. He was wearing a faded red t-shirt that had been one of Dean’s favorites until it shrunk in the wash (at least that’s what Dean claimed – he’d never admit he may have gained a pound or two) and a pair of black track pants Dean wore to lounge around the house. He was barefoot and fluffy-haired, not having put any pomade in his hair yet to try to keep it down. The dim light from the bedside table cast shadows that defined the muscle in Cas’ arms. _Damn it. I was dreaming again. I thought I was done with that._

“Dream?” Cas asked, as if he’d read Dean’s mind.

“Ye – no, shut up,” Dean replied.

“I didn’t think you got much sleep last night, so I brought you some coffee,” Cas said, ignoring Dean’s discomfort. “And breakfast is almost ready. It’s…”

“Ham and eggs?” Dean guessed.

Cas furrowed his brows quickly in confusion, then shook it off. “Yes. In sandwich form, so we can get on the road. You have a few minutes to get dressed, though.” He turned and walked out to give Dean some privacy.

Dean couldn’t stay grumpy at Cas. Mary had returned Saturday morning, letting them know via text since she was going to assist a hunter in Albuquerque, and Cas and Sam had returned late Saturday night, just like Cas said he would. Dean would never admit to being nervous that he wouldn’t return. He’d never admit to staring at his ceiling near midnight, wondering where they were, or to the relief that flooded his bones when Cas gently knocked on the door and poked his head in to say they were back and that Sam was going to bed. He’d joked with Cas and called him a jerk for writing his note in Enochian, then told him he didn’t have to leave a note if Dean knew where he was going, which he had. Cas had smiled at him gently about the Enochian but nodded seriously about not having to leave a note. “I will, anyway, if I can,” he had said. Dean would deny how much comfort that brought him.

Wichita was nearly three hours away, so they piled into the Impala around 5:00 a.m. to be sure to get there in time for the check-in for the walk, which started at 9:00. Dean had expected Sam to be exhausted, having probably gotten as little sleep as Dean after coming back from la-la land and having to get up at the same time (not to mention whatever he and Sophie might’ve gotten up to), but he was buzzing with energy.

“Man, Dean, you should’ve seen it! So it’s like this wrinkle in the universe or something, right? And it’s whatever your mind makes up, but it’s usually someplace special or comforting or whatever, or it might be neutral or just peaceful. Anyway, so we were in Machu Picchu…”

“You were in Machu Picchu? You’ve never even been there!” Dean asked incredulously.

“No, but I’ve always wanted to, and it turns out Mom has too, and Cas has been there and said it reverberates with spiritual energy, and…”

“Okay, okay, puppy, jeez…so anyway….”

“Okay, so anyway,” Sam continued, gesticulating wildly, hair flopping into his eyes as he moved forward from the backseat to get closer to Dean, “so we’re there, right? And we have to do this thing where we have to connect in some way, so we closed our eyes and held hands…”

“How romantic.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Shut up. Anyway, so the three of us held hands like this…” Sam demonstrated by pulling Sophie and Cas close to him and grasping their hands with his as they held their forearms vertically.

“Looks like you’re doing some weird arm-wrestling thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, it was like a high-five teamwork thing or something. Anyway, it worked. So there we are, and we had to concentrate on our feelings toward each other – Dean, don’t roll your eyes – and then boom! There was this light!” Sam’s voice was animated and his eyes were shining as he mimed an explosion.

“Did you walk toward it, Sammy?” Dean asked sarcastically.

“Ha ha. So this light, Dean, I mean, you’ve never seen anything like it. It was like this pulsing, alive kind of light, and Cas molded it with his hands and painted with it and showed us how he smote that demon without killing the human. We went into his training center – and _that_ was a freaky place…”

“The barn with all the symbols? Oh my God, yeah, so freaky!” Sophie chimed in.

Dean’s eyes grew wide as he glanced at Cas out of the corner of his eye. Cas returned the side-eye quickly before returning his gaze to the fields flying by. Sam had never seen that barn, but Dean knew Sam must be talking about the barn where he met Cas – on Earth, anyway.

“So Cas showed us some of the things he can do with this power he’s been gathering. It’s amazing, Dean! That’s why I stayed away so long – I wanted to watch him train. I mean, his angel powers are really back at full strength, and I think he has even more than before, I swear. I really think he has a chance to beat them.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas said, glancing quickly at Sam and then Dean before he turned back to the window.

“And I got a lot out of it, too. I worked on myself with Carwyn. She was awesome. I can’t even describe it, but you’ll see when it’s your turn. I mean, I feel better than I have in years, seriously!”

“Me, too!” Sophie agreed as she squeezed her fiancé’s thigh for emphasis. The lovers grinned at each other.

“That’s great, Sammy. Really,” Dean rasped through his parched throat, narrowed by emotion. Given his uncertainty about the whole thing, Dean doubted very much that Carwyn would be calling him any time soon.

Sam continued to chatter happily, but Castiel was lost in his own thoughts. The training had, indeed, been making him stronger, and managing the energy that two of his loved ones sent to him had been a welcome challenge. The energy that they gave him was stronger than the energy of several others, because of their bond, so practicing with them allowed him to really work on harnessing a larger amount of energy. Castiel had felt like a rubber band that was slowly being stretched to its capacity. Carwyn had said that he didn’t really have a limit – his ability to carry the love, good intentions, and best wishes of others would open and stretch to contain all that was put into it, like the heart. He thought at first that she had meant the physical human heart, as it was a muscle and all muscle could be made stronger. She had meant the metaphorical human heart, the heart that was written about and sung about and talked about throughout human history. That heart – the soul, the life energy, the human spirit, whatever label you wanted to use – had unlimited capacity. It was how parents, who couldn’t imagine loving another child the way they loved their first, unquestioningly and fiercely fell immediately in love with their second and subsequent children. It was how a grieving partner found love again with a new partner. It was the way a person could add another friend to their lives or adopt _just one more_ pet. Yes, the capacity to love was astounding. The knowledge that he was learning how to harness and release that love was humbling and frightening. He was fairly certain he was quite unworthy of the task. It seemed that it shouldn’t be left to someone who had made as many mistakes as he had. Carwyn, though, had reassured him that he was indeed the right being for the task, and that he was the only one who could, at least in this instance. His angelic powers, along with his motivation to make his beloved happy and safe, were the so-called magic needed for this task.

He felt the emotion rolling off of Dean. Dean wanted to be happy for Sam, and for Sophie, but he was struggling with his own loneliness. From the time Castiel rescued Dean from Hell, all he wanted was for Dean to be happy. He knew, somewhere in the hunter’s mind, that he wanted the same thing for himself. Dean struggled to be close to others, never knowing what their intentions were or whether he could really have what others wanted to give him. Cas wasn’t really sure where he stood in Dean’s world. He was his friend, for sure. Despite everything, they had forgiven each other and stuck together. Dean had even called Cas part of his family, and when Cas called Dean’s family “our family” the other night, Dean didn’t flinch. If anything, it seemed to calm him. But sometimes, things happened between them that Cas didn’t really understand well. He used to think that emotions were singular. If you were happy, you were happy. If you were angry, you were angry. But no, they weren’t. Emotions were messy things. Guilt and shame and desire and joy could churn in your life energy all at once. This is what he felt in Dean sometimes, in the times when they were together – the swirling storm that hung heavily in the air but never seemed to release the rain. Castiel knew the feeling well because that storm brewed in him often, although he felt like the clouds broke occasionally now that he was working with Carwyn. Still, Castiel wished the storms would finally soak them both.

Things were so much easier with Sophie. If Dean was a summer thunderstorm, hot and humid and crackling with energy, then Sophie was the calm after the storm, warm and clear and refreshing. Sophie was Castiel’s lighthouse in his tempest of emotions. Her healing abilities as a nurse seemed to extend to healing his confusion and anguish. He wished he had that ability. He hoped that maybe he would someday…and that he could be Dean’s lighthouse. He wanted to guide his friend out of the storm and assure him that the shore was solid, unwavering and true, and would not tear his little lifeboat to shreds.

Dean tried not to think of anything at all as he watched Cas’ face reflect the glow of the rising sun now streaming through the windows. He failed.

The day of the walk was crisp but bright, the kind of day that has you wearing gloves and a coat in the morning and short sleeves by the afternoon. At Sophie’s insistence, they all wore bright pink shirts with the walk’s logo across the front and the sponsors listed on the back. She wore a lighter pink headband that covered her ears against the morning chill and made her chin-length, honey-colored hair stay out of her face.

“All right, guys, let’s do this! Woo-hoo!” Sophie yelled as they walked to the starting line.

Since starting his training, Cas was much more sensitive to the energy of connection, and he felt his own energy heighten and swell in the crowd of survivors of cancer and their loved ones. Impulsively, he wrapped an arm around Sophie and kissed her temple. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Sophia,” he whispered in her ear. She looked back at him, surprised, and grinned as she slipped her hand in his. Sam watched with fondness for their bond; Dean watched curiously and wondered what that easy affection with Cas must be like. There was always some sort of strange current between him and the angel.

Sophie didn’t let go of Cas when the walkers were released at the starting line, and Dean watched as they started the walk hand in hand. She chatted with him amiably about past walks, friends she had made, friends she lost. Cas listened intently, as he always did when he was engaged in discussion with any of them. A nagging feeling gnawed at Dean. He pulled Sam back slightly so they could speak privately.

“Does that bother you?” Dean asked, nudging his head toward Cas and Sophie.

“Does what bother me?” a confused Sam asked.

“Them. Their friendship. The hand holding.”

Sam scrutinized his brother, his face screwed up in further confusion. “No,” he said slowly, “should it?”

“No, man, no, I just… they seem close, that’s all. That doesn’t bother you?”

“Uh, nope. They are close. But it’s not like she’s gonna leave me for Cas, Dean, and it’s not like he’s interested in her like that. They’re friends. She’s affectionate with all her friends, but especially him. She feels like… I don’t know, like she has to teach him what affection is, you know? In a way. She wants him to know that he’s loved.” He paused, then caught Dean’s eyes and said, “He’s not always sure of that. You know, not always sure that he’s loved. That’s what she tells me, anyway.”

Dean turned away from Sam’s pointed stare. “How would he not know that?” Dean asked, accusation and guilt in his voice.

Sam blew a frustrated sigh. “Dean, most of the angels are dicks, right? So they weren’t teaching him. Cas says they love in their own way, that they’ve been closed off because of all of the stuff that went down, but whatever. And we’re his only examples of human love, and we’re not exactly great ones.”

Dean shrugged and looked away. “Yeah, alright. I never thought about him wanting that, I guess. And yeah, we aren’t, you know, demonstrative.”

“Yeah, but that can change, Dean. I’ve changed. I think he’s changing, too.”

Dean considered this. Sam had, in fact, been changing, for the better. He was far less closed off, and though Dean didn’t like doing the feelings talks, he had to admit Sam did look a lot happier. So did Cas, for that matter. Love seemed to agree with him. He _liked, was fond of, needed_ Cas no matter what – Cas was family – but even he had to admit that Cas was looser, less self-conscious, more… accessible, somehow. Whereas once he was more difficult to read, standoffish, and distant, now he was warmer and more considerate. Dean swallowed thickly as he thought about things like Cas’ light-mate and lost chances. He wondered whether it was too late for him to change.

“Dean?”

“Yeah. I, uh, well anyway, I was just checking in with you, making sure you were okay with them. Wanted to make sure I didn’t need to explain anything to Cas, you know? He doesn’t always get this stuff.”

“Thanks, man, but I’m secure in what I have.” He smiled and looked at the love of his life, who was bounding away from Cas, pink beads in hand.

Castiel found himself forgetting to stay guarded and unaffected by the energies of those around him. Sophie was handing out metallic pink Mardi Gras-type beaded necklaces to everyone who would take one, replenishing her supply from either her own backpack or the backpack Sam carried. He pulled out his phone and recorded her actions as she brought out the smiles around her. He tagged the video with #liveyourlove and posted it on his Twitter account and his YouTube channel. He smiled as he made another video of several ladies with wildly-colored hair and red hats doing some sort of conga line through the crowd and posted it. Walking ahead of the others, Cas noticed a young boy walking with his father and his aunt. He had stopped along the side of the road while they tried to coax him to continue, though he refused to walk and refused to be carried. Not considering whether his presence would be welcome, Castiel walked over to them to see if he could help. He felt deep sadness in the boy’s energy.

Cas knelt in front of the boy and said, seriously, “Excuse me. Would you help me find my dinosaur? I seem to have misplaced him.” The boy’s brown eyes looked up at him, uncertain what the man with the blue eyes in front of him was talking about. “I’ll need your father’s help, too.”

The boy looked up at his father, who was eyeing the stranger curiously. He slowly nodded.

Castiel exaggerated his voice and movements as he said, “Great! I think I saw him over here. Come on!” He hurried the boy and his father along, darting through the crowd to look under a bench. “Not here. Hmm. Oh, maybe under that drink table over there!” They ran back through the crowd and Castiel and the boy got on the ground to look under the table. “Not there either. Maybe your dad knows!” He looked expectantly at the boy’s father, hoping he’d play along.

“Oh, yeah, uh… over there! Behind that tree! I just saw him run over there!” the dad said. He ran with the boy and Cas to the tree. The adults enthusiastically looked all around the tree while the boy searched the ground. After searching another tree, a trash can, and around a few walkers, the boy’s aunt caught up with them and said they had to keep walking. Although the boy looked disappointed, his earlier funk had been broken and he was in better spirits and more compliant.

Cas bent down to the boy’s level to say goodbye. “Thank you for helping me look. He’s… wait. What’s that?” He pulled a small toy dinosaur he’d been palming, an impulse buy when they stopped at the service area on the way to Wichita, from behind the boy’s ear. “He was riding with you all along! He must really like being with you.” The boy giggled as he petted the fuzzy toy.

“Would you mind taking care of him for me? I think he’d really like a friend like you, and I wonder if you’d really like a friend like him too.” The boy nodded enthusiastically as Cas handed him over.

“I will warn you. He likes to hide. He thinks it’s a game. You might need your father to help you find him sometimes. You could look for him together.” He glanced at the father as he talked to the boy. The boy nodded again and thanked him.

“Thank _you_ ,” he said, turning away. The boy skipped away with his aunt and his dinosaur as the father grabbed Castiel’s arm gently.

“Thank you for doing that,” he said softly. “Uh… his mom’s been in the hospital for a while and it’s been tough. On both of us. I know he needs me and needs to be a normal kid, but it’s hard to split the time sometimes, you know?” Cas nodded and grasped the father’s shoulder lightly, wishing him good luck and secretly answering the prayers he knew the man had been offering every night since his wife’s diagnosis. He felt a warm pulse of energy burn in his grace.

Castiel waited for Sam, Sophie, and Dean to join him, then walked with them for another mile or two before his attention was caught by a group of women a few yards to his right. His energy was pulled in their direction, buoyed by the unity he felt in the energy around them. Within the group of six women he saw a middle-aged woman with a pink bandanna tied on her smooth head. She looked older than her years. Her clothing hung loosely on her tiny, fragile frame, the black sweatshirt announcing her as the “Deb” of “Team Deb.” The other women wore similar “Team Deb” sweatshirts. They were attempting to support her as she stumbled along the road.

“Hello Deborah,” he greeted her as if he’d known her all his life. He hadn’t met her before, but he had heard her prayers. She often prayed to angels to watch over her family.

She greeted him warmly. “Hello, handsome,” she smiled through dry lips. “What’s your name?”

“Castiel.”

“Hello, Castiel. Who are you walking for?”

“My friend Sophie,” he replied, pointing Sophie out a few feet to his left.

“She looks like she’s a lot of fun. I saw her handing out those necklaces,” Deb said, pointing to Castiel’s metallic beads. Cas smiled and placed his beads around Deb’s neck. “She is a lot of fun,” he replied.

“I saw her dancing earlier. I used to dance. Wish I still could. But, you know, the damn cancer.”

Cas saw that Deb was getting very tired. He knew she didn’t have much time left in this world. He also knew that she was too proud to ask for help. He got an idea and held out a hand. “Would you like to dance, Deb? I have what humans call ‘two left feet’ but I can try.”

She cackled at him. “What ‘humans’ call two left feet? You say that like you’re not human yourself, friend.” She gripped his strong hand in her ebony fingers and clutched as hard as she could, which was only butterfly-light.

“Maybe not,” he leaned in and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

Deb laughed. “Are you sure about the dancing? I can’t really move around that well,” she said. “I’m pretty tired from the walk.” She watched him to see if he understood what she was trying to say.

“Of course,” Cas replied. He opened his arms to her.

She regarded him for a moment, then said, “Why not? Might be the last time a handsome fellow asks me to dance.” He lifted her into his arms, cradling her under her back and behind her knees and rocking her side to side as he walked forward.

“We need music,” she proclaimed. “Sing with me, Castiel.” They discussed the songs they both knew, and she began singing _That’s What Friends Are For_. Cas joined her, softly at first, then louder when she poked him in the chest and said, “With spirit, boy!” Her friends joined them in the song as he swayed her in larger motions, allowing his grace to flow through her so her delicate body would be comfortable in the position she was in. Others around them joined in the song, and Castiel felt the energy of the group’s unity flow through him and fill him with strength. Sophie ran ahead of Cas, then walked backwards to record the impromptu performance. It was difficult for her to focus through her tear-filled eyes. Sam and Dean walked a short distance behind her, also backwards. They observed the scene with reverence and a little wonder at just what was happening to the serious, emotionless angel they thought they knew. Cas caught Dean’s eyes briefly and he smiled brilliantly before turning back and saying something to the woman in his arms. Dean had never thought of someone’s smile as “dazzling,” but there it was. And it was for him.

As the song wound down, Castiel sang only to Deb. Her head rested on his chest as she felt his voice rumble through. She sighed and murmured, “Maybe you’re not human after all, Castiel. Maybe you’re an angel.”

He hummed and said, “We’re at the finish line. You should cross it yourself.” He placed her down gently, with her family around her. She crossed the line to the cheers of her family and friends and collapsed into the wheelchair one of the volunteers brought to her. Deb reached out her hand for Castiel and said, “Pray for my family, please.”

Castiel crouched down to her level and nodded. “I will. Will you pray for my family? And for me, Deb?” he asked in response.

“I will, Castiel. I would be happy to.” She patted his hand. “You keep that good heart of yours. You deserve good things.”

Cas squeezed her hand gently as he stood. Sophie and Sam surrounded Cas to his left, and Dean pressed into his right shoulder. “My family,” Cas said as he gestured to them.

“They are lovely, honey,” she said. Sophie and Sam beamed at her as they said hello. Dean gave her a shy smile and a little wave. Deb reached for Dean’s hand and tugged him down to speak in his ear.

“You take care of that boy, you hear me?” she whispered to him. “You take care of Castiel and be good to him all your lives together.”

Dean was stunned by the woman’s command. “Um… he’s a friend. We’re not….”

She wagged her finger at him. “I’m dying of cancer, but I’m not blind. I saw how he looked at you. I saw how you looked at him. He told me who you are. Now be good to him.”

_Who I am?_ “Um, yeah,” Dean stammered quietly in her ear, “I’ll take care of him.”

“Good,” she said as she leaned back and released his hand. He straightened up. They said their goodbyes, collected their reusable water bottles at the reception table, and started back to the car.

Dean allowed Sam, Sophie, and Cas to walk ahead of him. He was vaguely aware of them huddled around Sophie’s cell phone, chattering excitedly about something she was showing them. He was vaguely aware of the crowds of people moving around him. He was vaguely aware of the keys in his hand, the sun warming his skin, and the soreness of his feet because he didn’t have sneakers. But he was sharply aware of the conversation between him and the lady Cas had carried. _He told me who you are._ Dean tried desperately not to read into the comment, but she clearly thought they were together. Had Cas said something to make her think that? _I’m not blind. I saw how you looked at him._ What did she see? What look was he giving Cas? This was bad. Was this bad? Dean wasn’t sure anymore. _I saw how he looked at you_. Did it mean anything or was she just reading into it? _He told me who you are._

“Earth to Dean, do you copy? Over!” Sophie joked as she shoved Dean’s shoulder. They were at the car, waiting for Dean to unlock it. From the looks of it, they’d been waiting a little bit. He blushed and fumbled with the keys. He was still lost in thought when all hell broke loose.

__________________

Song referenced in this chapter:

_That’s What Friends Are For_ by Dionne Warwick


	19. Demon Killing Should Not Be Hot

A group of ten people – the youngest around 10, the oldest around 65, none dressed for the cancer walk – surrounded the Impala. They brandished weapons as they stepped forward, crowding the four until they were pressed against the car.

“We don’t have any money on us! Please don’t hurt us!” Sophie shouted anxiously.

“They’re not muggers, Soph,” Sam hissed in her ear before pushing her behind him. “They’re demons.”

Flashes of black eyes confirmed their suspicions.

Sam and Dean looked quickly at each other, trying to figure out their plan. Neither had carried weapons with them. All the demon blades were locked in the trunk, along with everything else. They shrugged at each other. _Fisticuffs it is._

“What do you want?” Cas growled, unafraid, as he stepped in front of his family and just inches from the most aggressive demon, who inhabited a muscular 35-year-old male.

“You won’t win, Castiel. This is your warning. Surrender, or your beloved and the others will be killed.” The demon’s breath puffed hotly onto Castiel’s chin.

“No, this is your warning. You will not hurt them, and I will not surrender. Now go,” he snarled, staring down at the demon with ice in his eyes. Cas’ jaw was set like marble. He resembled the awesome, powerful Angel of the Lord that Dean and Bobby met in Illinois, but even harder and colder. Dean would _not_ want to be on Cas’ bad side. “Do not bother us again. I do not want to have to hurt you.”

“Our orders are way above your pay grade,” said a second demon, the 10-year-old, “so do yourself a favor and submit.” He pouted. “Don’t make _us_ hurt _you_.”

Castiel glared at him.

“Listen, pretty angel,” another demon, this one possessing a young woman, jeered, “you remember what happened to your light-mate the last several lifetimes, don’t you? Murdered in front of you while you watched helplessly?” The demon cried out, mocking Castiel’s pain. “You wouldn’t want us to repeat that for you now, would you? It’d be really easy to just…” She started to move behind him. Castiel grabbed the demon and spread one of his hands against her chest and neck and the other to her head, as he had done to the demon in Louisiana. The burst of white light blinded humans and demons alike. The woman, no longer possessed, collapsed to the asphalt.

“Enough,” the muscular demon shouted before the rest of the demons descended upon Castiel, Sam, Sophie, and Dean, intending to kill them. A high-pitched wail, accompanied by a flash and a gust of scorching wind, brought everyone but Castiel to their knees. A moment later, Dean looked up to see Castiel, his literal, dorky friend who couldn’t keep a tie straight, standing among the formerly-possessed humans, ash in one hand and sparkling lights like fireflies in the other. He stared at Dean with an intense, possessive look and a tiny uptick in the corners of his full lips as the sparks burned away into white smoke in one hand and ash sifted from his fingers in the other. Dean stared back, mouth dry and hanging open, uncertain what he was seeing but knowing he’d never seen this from the angel before. _This is not hot. This is really, really NOT hot. This is my best friend and this is NOT HOT._ He barely heard Cas’ rich voice utter “They’re gone” and “I’ll be right back” over his inner loop.

Sam and Sophie raised their heads. “What the HELL was that?” Sophie screamed. As fine as she said she was with her fiancé’s job, she’d never actually seen anything he faced day to day. She was trembling. Sam wrapped her in his arms and rocked her, kissing her head and telling her it was okay. Dean shook himself from his stupor and embraced both of them and they leaned against the car.

The people who’d surrounded the car as demons moments ago were waking up now and were confused about where they were. Sam tucked Sophie into the car so he could help Dean figure out who these people were and where they were supposed to be. Cas returned and touched each of them with two fingers, implanting a story in each of them about why they were in that location and erasing their memories of their possessions. When the last of the individuals left, the brothers decided eating lunch might help settle their jangled nerves.

Settling into a quiet diner thirty minutes later, Sam broke the silence. “What was that, Cas? The ash and the white smoke?” Dean turned to Sam. He hadn’t realized Sam had also seen the show, since Cas seemed to be looking only at him.

Cas shrugged and looked down at the rings he was twisting around on his fingers with his thumbs. “I’m getting stronger.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Sam commented. “You didn’t do that during the training I watched.”

He shrugged again with an exaggerated frown. “I didn’t realize I could do it. Not with several at once.”

“Well, hey, A+ for figuring that out right then,” Dean raised his coffee cup in salute, “seriously. Your angel powers really have come back big time.”

“Those weren’t angelic powers, Dean. Not completely,” Castiel replied, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Then what was it?”

Castiel didn’t answer Dean’s question, instead commenting, “I’m glad I was able to help.”

“What, exactly, did you do? What were the ash and the smoke?” Sam asked again.

“Eliminated and redeemed,” Castiel answered, as if that explained everything Sam needed to know. It didn’t.

“Enlighten me?” Sam asked as Sophie spoke for the first time in a while, “Oh, like Carwyn did!”

“Yes,” he nodded toward Sophie. “I didn’t even have to touch them. I used my energy to pull the demons out of their vessels, determined whether they were truly evil or would seek forgiveness and redemption, and acted accordingly. Those who were redeemed had the spark of life restored and went up in the white smoke, and those who would not seek redemption were incinerated by their own hatred. They were the ashes.”

Sophie uttered the collective thought of the group. “Whoa, that’s badass,” she whispered.

Cas shook his head humbly. “To be honest, I didn’t think it through much. I had harnessed so much love from today’s events that the energy was thrumming through me. That, paired with the threats leveled against all of you, prompted me to act. I simply meditated on what I needed and asked the energy to flow through me and give me what I needed. I had no doubt.”

The little family sat, each in their own thoughts about that revelation and everything it meant. Dean mulled over the entire scene and remembered something. “Cas,” he said.

Castiel turned and looked at him. “Yes, Dean?”

He hesitated, not sure he wanted to bring it up because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. He pressed on. “The demon said if you didn’t surrender then your, uh, beloved and the others would be killed. We’re all accounted for. Is your, uh, person okay? Your light-mate?”

He pursed his lips slightly as he looked at Dean. “My light-mate is fine, Dean. Thank you for being concerned.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and took a deep breath as he said, “Uh, do you need to go check? Should we go check? We can go with you to check. You know, if you…wanna…check.” A blush bloomed on his cheeks and heated his face.

A hint of a smile joined the pursed lips as Castiel said, “Trust me, Dean. My light-mate is fine. As fine as usual, anyway.”

Sophie burst out laughing.

 


	20. Be Safe and Be Well

Dean was restless and alone. Sophie was at work and Sam was helping Mary with yet another vengeful spirit situation in Missouri. They suspected demons might be involved in that one, but they didn’t bother telling Dean that until it was too late and they were already well underway. Sam didn’t want Dean coming along anyway, saying that he was “too distracted” lately. All the other hunters Dean knew enough to call said that they were up to their eyeballs in activity, but Dean didn’t call to help, just to get the lay of the land. Cas had been whisked away by Carwyn a couple of days after the cancer walk. She explained that, between the thousands of hits on the videos that Cas and Sophie had posted and the surge of power Cas had displayed with the demons, he was in a prime position to, in video game terms, “level up.” She wanted him to start visiting humans individually around the world, answering prayers personally, working miracles, or just talking to them, and she wanted him to start meeting with a few angels sympathetic to his cause. Dean imagined the human visits would be much like the monsters hiding in the closet at the end of _Monsters Inc._ , only instead of doing comedy Cas would perform magic – to their eyes, anyway. Carwyn had been amused but assured him it wouldn’t work exactly like that.

Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge and pulled his laptop closer to him as he sat at the table. The note Cas had left him, despite being there when Carwyn came by to take him, was taped just above the keys on the keyboard. He had taped it there, he said, to make sure Dean saw it. Since he had written the note and taped it to the computer right in front of Dean, it wasn’t like he was going to miss it. Dean had rolled his eyes at that and barked something at him, but Cas was unruffled about it. His index finger grazed the edge of the note. Eventually, he gave in to the stupid impulse to read the stupid note from his stupid friend again. He ignored the Enochian at the top (smug bastard) and read:

_Dean – It appears I’m going on some sort of “world tour.”_ Dean could practically see the air quotes made by Cas’ slender fingers. _I don’t anticipate being gone for long. With my ability to fly fully realized once again, I anticipate the tour itself will be a few days. She has intimated that she will be focusing on some new elements in my training, so that may take a few days as well._ Dean had to look up the work “intimated.” He was surprised and relieved to learn it meant “suggested.” _I won’t let her keep me beyond a week, unless there is some pressing need. In that case, I will contact you. Perhaps you can use the time to relax and engage in some of your hobbies – or create some, as I have rarely seen you engage in leisurely pursuits. Since you will likely not do that, perhaps there is some reconnaissance work that could be done, as long as you and Sam can do so safely. I do not want you in any danger. However, I know you, so I know you will feel driven to investigate these latest developments regardless of my concern for your safety._ Dean huffed a short laugh at that. Cas did know him well. _Be safe and be well, Dean. – Cas_

Dean smiled as he folded up the note, though he felt a bit flustered. He’d re-read it a few times now. It was longer than the last, and more personal. He signed it “Cas” instead of “Castiel” and told him to be safe and well. Dean sighed. Cas didn’t have to write the note, but he did anyway. Yeah, he was taking Dean’s request to write a note when he was leaving a little too literally, as usual, but Cas was a go big or go home kind of guy, and Dean couldn’t help but feel grateful and warm that he took Dean seriously. Dean wasn’t really used to people listening to him (and, to be fair, he wasn’t used to telling people what he needed) and considering his feelings the way Cas did. He found himself thinking about this a lot recently. Even when things went awry, even when it seemed like they were operating on different wavelengths, in the end Cas’ motivation for whatever he did seemed to revolve back to Dean. It was a motivation Dean didn’t quite grasp – not when it involved him. He sure as hell didn’t feel worthy of it. Dean’s motivation had always been Sammy, or his dad, or Cas. With his dad it was obligation, though he loved him as much as he could. With Sammy it was brotherly love and devotion, which had an element of obligation (Sammy was his responsibility, after all) but was overall pretty pure. With Cas, Dean’s motivation was… unlike the others. Like the others, he’d do anything for Cas, but the emotion behind it was different. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was. He just knew that whatever Cas needed, he was going to do, even if it hurt him. Of course, Cas wouldn’t ask him to do anything that would hurt Dean, so it was kind of an awkward dance they did.

Dean decided he couldn’t just sit around and play games or check out porn on his computer. Cas did know him well, and he did suggest reconnaissance (though with Sam, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him). He grabbed his keys from the counter and headed out the door.

At a little coffee shop in Smith Center, Dean ordered a burger and fries along with a beer and looked out the window as he waited. They had finally hit a cold snap, and he watched a couple of people walk by with their heads tucked into the collars of their coats, shielding them from the chilly wind. Dean wrapped his left hand around the glass of water next to his beer. His cell phone sat heavily in his right. The skin on his hands had dried out a bit from the drop in moisture that came with the autumn air. With all the crap life had dished out, his hands looked older than his nearly 40 years. Scars, aged to fine lines, littered his knuckles. He had hoped that maybe, someday, he’d have a tan line made by a wedding band or a scar from fixing his kid’s bike. Neither of those seemed likely anymore.

“Hello, Squirrel,” Crowley purred as he slid into the booth across from Dean.

“Crowley,” Dean greeted him. Crowley ordered a roast beef sandwich when the waitress brought Dean’s lunch out to him.

“To what do I owe the distinct pleasure of meeting with a Winchester?”

Dean pointed a fry at him. “Tell me what you know about the demons that were on our asses in Wichita.”

“I don’t know anything about them.”

“Bull.”

“Dean,” Crowley said, spreading his hands, “what can I tell you? They’re defectors.”

Dean squinted and gestured for him to continue as he took a big bite of his burger.

Crowley sighed heavily. They were quiet for a moment when the waitress brought his sandwich. He took a bite and swallowed it before he continued.

“They’re not mine anymore.”

Impatiently, Dean asked, “Okay, so what happened?”

Another sigh. “What’s in it for me, Dean? Why should I tell you anything?”

“Maybe so I don’t kick your ass?”

“Touchy, touchy,” Crowley clucked. “Alright darling. There are a few demons of mine – maybe 50? 60? – that were… influenced by Jesse Turner to turn against me. He and his little angel concubine promised them all the riches in the world, so to speak. Power, authority, et cetera. All they had to do in return was to be loyal and do whatever they were asked. They left.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, it’s not like they came back and told me anything,” Crowley snarked. “However, my sources say that their new bosses are quite obsessed with your boyfriend. They’ve been stirring up trouble all over the place. Word has it that their little gang is inciting riots, breaking up lovers, provoking spirits, and so on, trying to counteract what your choir boy is doing.”

_That would explain some of the chaos lately._ “And what is Cas doing, exactly?”

“I have no idea. He’s your boyfriend, I thought you’d know.”

Dean closed his eyes and raked his hands over his face. This wasn’t going as he’d hoped.

“I do know,” Crowley continued, “that whatever it is, it’s big. This angel, Marou, that Turner is canoodling with? She’s a disgrace, but she’s powerful. An angel who’s been practicing dark magic. My mother is very jealous of her. I don’t know what has her panties in a twist, but I’ve heard rumors that destruction and mayhem are coming our way. I don’t know what she’d want with a two-bit angel like Castiel, but I’m not here to judge. I’m here to protect what’s mine.”

Dean ignored the anger swelling up in him at the insult Crowley spewed about Cas.

“So,” Crowley asked with raised eyebrows, “anything I should know?”

Dean scowled. “No. Just help out if we need you. You’re a lot better off on our side than on theirs. At least if you’re on our side, you might live through it.”

“Well, darling, that’s all I ever asked.”

__________________

Movie referenced in this chapter:

_Monsters, Inc._ by Walt Disney Pictures/Pixar Animation Studios

 


	21. Shielding Others Isn't Love

Castiel knew Dean wouldn’t listen to him, but he wrote the bit about hobbies anyway. He tried to pour out as much of his concern in the note as he thought Dean could manage. The last demon attack hit too close to home, too close to his family. Rather than going after others, they were now aiming their aggression directly at Castiel and, by extension, those closest to him. He thought perhaps now would be a good time to stay far away from them. Perhaps he could lure Marou and her associates elsewhere, away from the Winchesters.

“Don’t even consider it, Castiel.”

Carwyn startled him out of his musing. They sat by the familiar stream where they’d had several meetings. It was a place of reflection and meditation. It was supposed to be peaceful, but Castiel was troubled.

“Carwyn….”

“No.”

“They’re in danger.”

“They aren’t,” she insisted.

“Those demons were willing to kill them.”

“No,” Carwyn said firmly. “Those demons were meant to frighten you and make you surrender, or make Sophie or the Winchesters frightened and give you up. She is trying to cause dissention in order to weaken you. They will be in more danger if you leave. You are not at full strength yet.”

“I have all of my angelic abilities back.”

“Not enough.”

“But….”

“Not enough, Castiel.” She turned to him, her face kind but her eyes ablaze. “You need time for this plan to work. The angels you spoke to are on board and are working with me. Like you, they will regain their abilities, along with their wings. You will need them to help you harness power throughout the Earth. Although, with enough training, you could do it on your own, I don’t see a need to exhaust you. In this case, more is better. Remember when I told you that you needed to ask for help?”

Castiel nodded.

“Well, this is asking for help. When we allow others to help us, we allow them to love us. This allows exponential growth and power. It’s one of the reasons why your interventions at the walk were so powerful and why you were able to break past one of your barriers.” When Cas looked at her quizzically, she continued, “Those people – the boy, his father, Deb, her family and friends – allowed you to help them. They didn’t have to. But they allowed you to help, which means they allowed you to give love to them. In return, they gave love to you, creating a positive feedback loop that became more than the sum of its parts. It’s also why the videos are so popular right now. People are watching the videos that you and Sophia posted, and they feel inspired. Sometimes it’s safer for humans to allow strangers or videos or music to help them feel what they need to feel. They allow the help to flow through to them, and in return their energy flows back to others.”

Castiel considered this. “I still don’t understand why I have to put those I care for in danger.”

“Sometimes the most powerful help comes from those with whom we can be our most vulnerable.” She reached out and grasped his hands tightly, sending comfort into his grace. “Castiel, I told you that there would be things that would be asked of you personally, and of your beloved and your family. I told you that you would need to harness the energy of your loved ones, and that you would have to release the energy that keeps you burning when you are near me. I told you that the factors that led to your grief and defeat in previous times are different. They have to be different in order to end this cycle. You have support both for your own well-being and for your bond with your light-mate. This is why your enemies are threatened. They know you can defeat them this time. But you _must_ do this properly.” She sighed. “You will place them in more danger if you revert to your old ways. Shielding others is not always love.”

Castiel opened his mouth to argue, but Carwyn shushed him with a finger to his lips. “Castiel. Shielding them from this is actually shielding them from you. There will be a time when protecting them will be appropriate, but right now you are blocking the love you are trying to protect and keep. Let me ask you. How does your Dean react when you try to shut him out?”

A tiny smile crossed Castiel’s face as he thought about Dean’s typical response. “He doesn’t like it. He becomes angry.”

“And what is under the anger, Castiel?”

“Hurt. Feelings of rejection. Feelings of incompetence.” He exhaled slowly. “His soul dims.”

“And how does that affect your bond?”

“It weakens it.”

“Which is not effective in our situation, correct?” she prods.

He nods reluctantly. “Correct.”

“Your Dean will take whatever actions he will take in order to help you, correct? Whether you approve or not?”

Cas had said as much in his note. “Yes. He will.”

“Hmm. So if you don’t allow him to help you and he does anyway, there will be hurt, rejection, and incompetence in the space between you. But if you allow him to help you, you allow him to demonstrate love for you in a way he understands. He lives his love through action. Allowing him to act on your behalf is a gift, Castiel. For both of you.”

Cas stared at the stream until it turned into a shimmering blur.

“I told your Dean that his doubt would be your downfall. Your fear will be his.”

Cas spun his head suddenly to confront her, but all of his arguments flew away at the look in her compassionate face. He knew she was right.

Still, being the stubborn, rebellious being he was, when he opened his mouth he was surprised to hear himself say, “Okay. Let’s work on that.”

 


	22. Lean Back, Let It Move Right Through Ya

It had been a week fraught with tension. Despite her desire to look unflappable, Sophie had found herself looking over her shoulder for anything resembling a demon, though she had no idea what to look for. Sam had been calling her often throughout the week as he took care of the spirit in Missouri and did research in between, finally returning Thursday night to his relieved fiancée. Dean had done his own follow-up on what little Crowley told him, as well as trying to track down what Jesse Turner had been up to in the past few years. He had tried to be home at the bunker every night for Sophie. When Friday came, everyone looked a little worse for wear.

“TGIF, that’s all I have to say,” Sophie groused as she flopped face-down on the couch after work. “Unless one of you wants to cook, order pizza, because I’m not doing a damn thing.”

Dean grumbled his agreement as he pulled out his phone.

“Already calling,” Sam said from the table.

They were tucking into thick pizzas piled with meat and veggies (Sophie made them compromise) when Cas popped into the room. In frayed jeans. Barefoot. Shirtless.

Three jaws and three pizzas hung uselessly.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Not a word,” he said as he rolled his eyes and looked at nothing to his left.

Dean didn’t think he could speak if he wanted to. He shifted uncomfortably.

Sophie let out a loud wolf whistle. He rolled his eyes. “Sophie…”

“I didn’t _say_ a _word_ ,” she pointed out sweetly. “So, Professor Hot Stuff, what’s with the stripper look?”

“I do not dance and remove my clothing for a living. I have ‘homework,’” Cas answered.

“Well,” Sam quipped, “I know I’m dying to know what kind of homework this is.” Sophie nodded vigorously in agreement. “Aren’t you, Dean?” Dean still hadn’t said anything.

He heaved a sigh. “Carwyn feels I need to make myself vulnerable. Exposed. She feels I need to face my fears and stop shielding myself and others, literally as well as figuratively. She said I have become too comfortable in my typical clothing and I use it as a shield, so she wants me to wear other things. But first, she insisted I walk around like this for the evening. Something about ‘taking off the life vest’ and physical vulnerability and expression and… connecting in more of a, uh, ‘carnal’ manner. I don’t really understand her motivation, but she said it will ‘challenge the status quo.’”

“Huh,” Sophie and Sam uttered together. They took bites of their slices as they looked him over.

All of the toppings from Dean’s slice slid to his plate.

Cas shuffled his feet. “We, uh, also have to ‘go out and have fun.’ She suggested a dance hall or a club of some sort. Someplace with people. I have to interact with them.”

“Like that?” Dean squeaked as he finally found his voice.

Cas gave him an incredulous look. “I should hope not. My impression is that my current appearance is more appropriate for more intimate settings. Or swimming, perhaps.” He frowned down at his naked chest as he appraised the swim-worthiness of his attire, then back up at Dean. Wisps of messy dark hair fell across a raised eyebrow and caught in his lashes.

Dean dropped his pizza as he scrambled to his feet. “Okay, well you have fun with that,” he said as he started to back away from the table.

“Dean, you have to come with us,” Cas panicked as he started to move toward him. The top of his hipbones peeked out of the worn denim.

“I don’t do fun, Cas.” He tried to sound rough and certain, but instead he yelped and bumped into his chair. Sam and Sophie looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

“I don’t ‘do fun’ either, Dean, but this is part of the training. I need to do this in order to face my fears of intimacy and rejection so I can be stronger and fight for those I love,” he said as he came closer to Dean. Dean stumbled backwards until he bumped into the wall. Cas looked at him beseechingly as he clasped Dean’s left arm in his warm, strong hand. His bottom lip pouted ever-so-slightly. “Please, Dean. This is uncomfortable for me as well, but I need you. I need your help.”

Dean breathed shallowly as the heat radiated from Cas’ body. He was inches from Dean. The guy had no sense of personal space, and Dean was having trouble thinking. _This is crazy. He doesn’t need me. This plan is stupid. I can’t say yes, I can’t say yes, I can’t say yes…_

“Yeah, alright, Cas,” Dean rasped. He pushed himself off the wall and out of Cas’ hold. “Just let me know where and when, alright?” He turned and walked toward his bedroom as casually as he could manage.

“Don’t you want some input on where we’re going?” Sophie called from behind him. Dean waved his hand dismissively as he continued walking. They heard a door slam a moment later.

Cas turned to look at the couple behind him, who were smiling strangely at him. He shot them a confused look. Sophie patted the seat next to her.

“C’mere, you gorgeous hunk of angel, you,” she teased. “I know exactly what we’re going to do tomorrow. We are going to have so much fun!”

***

“This is not fun,” Dean griped as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He walked with his brother in a shopping mall in Kearney, Nebraska. They rarely frequented malls, preferring to get most of their clothing (suits and CK underwear notwithstanding) at thrift stores.

“Yeah, well, it could be worse. We could be the ones trying on the stuff. Poor bastard,” Sam chuckled. A few feet in front of them, Sophie was gesturing animatedly. Cas, in the faded orange t-shirt from the swimming trip and the frayed jeans that Carwyn gave him, looked resigned and bored. Dean was _not_ staring at the way the jeans rode low on Cas’ hips or how they defined the rest of his body. He was simply not used to seeing his friend in anything but the non-body-defining trench coat. It was novelty, nothing more. Dean chuckled nervously, realizing he should be responding to his brother in some way but too lost in his own thoughts to form a coherent string of words together.

Sophie steered Cas into a JC Penney. As they reached the men’s department, Sophie called, “Sam! Pick out a couple of new things. You too, Dean. My treat. We have to look nice for Cas’ wild night out. Not to mention his debut.”

The brothers caught up to Sophie and Cas. Dean frowned. “What debut?”

“His singing debut, duh! Don’t you ever pay attention?” Sophie tapped him upside the head.

“Ow,” he said though it didn’t actually hurt. “What singing debut?”

Cas grimaced as Sophie said, “We’re going to do karaoke!”

Dean groaned. How did he get stuck in these situations? The last time he did karaoke was, to put it mildly, a disaster. He was a demon at the time. When he realized what he did later, he was mortified. “I’m not singing.”

“You don’t have to. Cas and I will!” She playfully punched Castiel’s arm.

“Since when is Cas a singer?” he said dismissively.

“Dean, did you even listen to the video of him singing at the walk? He’s an amazing singer.”

In fact, Dean hadn’t listened to it. Even though he’d been there, he was too focused on just watching Cas and on the smile Cas gave him to focus on anything else at the time. Plus, he’d been surrounded by other people singing, so it wasn’t like Cas would stand out. Except apparently he did, because Sophie said so.

Sophie interrupted his thoughts. “Plus he sings around the bunker all the time.”

Dean frowned. “No he doesn’t.”

“Um, yes, he does,” Sophie retorted. “Maybe not around you, but he does.”

Before the two could continue their argument, Cas chimed in, “I do. Sing, that is. It is an instrument like any other musical instrument. I know how to use it.” He glanced at Dean. Dean remembered their conversation about Castiel’s skill at playing all instruments, and Dean’s stupid comment about his piano fingers. He tried and failed not to make a dirty joke to himself about Cas’ skill at playing instruments. He blushed profusely as he said, “Yeah, alright, but I’m not singing” and walked to a rack of shirts a few feet away. He needed space.

As he wandered around, picking up shirts here and there that caught his eye, his mind drifted back to Cas singing in the bunker. He tried to imagine his gravelly baritone tearing through a Zepp song, maybe holding an imaginary mic as he stood on Dean’s bed like it was a stage. Dean smiled goofily at the thought of his oh-so-serious friend letting his inner Robert Plant loose. _Nope, nope, nope._ He pushed the thought out of his mind. The thought was quickly replaced with Cas sitting at a piano, bare feet keeping time on a hardwood floor, perfect fingers floating along the keys, singing some sappy love song that Dean would tease him about endlessly, except he wouldn’t be teasing him this time, because…

“Dean!” Sam whispered through clenched teeth, giving his shoulder a shove.

“What?”

“You’ve been holding that shirt in front of you for five minutes now. Either you like it or you don’t.”

“Shut it, Sam,” he grumbled, embarrassed, as he draped the shirt on top of two others slung over his arm.

“Dude, you are so spacey lately. What is with you?” Sam asked. Dean could hear the concern creep into his voice. It threatened to turn into one of _those_ moments.

“Nothing, Sam,” he grouched. “Where’s Cas?” Sam motioned to the dressing room. Dean headed in that direction and found a dressing stall next to Cas (and Sophie, apparently, who thought nothing of hanging out in a men’s dressing room). He locked himself in and listened as their conversation drifted out of their stall toward his.

“Trust me, this outfit is your milkshake,” she joked.

“I don’t understand.” Dean smiled. He could practically hear Cas’ confused scowl.

“You’re gonna bring all the boys to the yard. The girls, too.” Dean heard Sophie’s hand slap lightly on fabric. He assumed she slapped him on the back.

“What yard? I thought we were going to a karaoke establishment?” Dean had a hard time suppressing the giggle bubbling up.

“What I _mean_ is that everyone is going to be all over you. They are going to be _physically attracted_ to you. Between how hot you look in this outfit and your singing, you are gonna have people fighting to get to you. Plus, you have been so happy and glowy lately, and that’s attractive, too. That’s why Carwyn wants you to do this, you know. Putting yourself out there, being vulnerable, that’s attractive to others. They feel like you’re trusting them enough to share something personal with them, and that’s hot as hell. And don’t talk to me about the temperature in Hell, it’s just a saying.” Dean heard a rustle of fabric. “They are going to want you, Cas. They are going to want to take you home and have sex with you and they are going to beg you to be their boyfriend because you are so amazing.”

The conversation stopped as more fabric rustled. Dean imagined Cas was soaking in all of this information. He wondered what Cas thought of it, of being wanted by others. It had always seemed to confuse the angel in the past, but he was changing. Dean felt a stab of jealousy, which he swiftly tried to shove away. Cas could be with anyone he wanted. Anyone at all. It wasn’t Dean’s business. Dean wondered if taking someone home, just for a night, would do him some good. It would fill the physical need, at least. It never filled the emotional one.

Cas broke the silence, quietly and tenderly, “I don’t want the boys or girls to come to the yard, Sophie. I am not interested in sexual relations with others. I want to be with my light-mate.”

Jealousy wielded its dagger and stabbed Dean repeatedly until he felt the air punch out of him. Imagining Cas with some random person was one thing. Imagining him with his light-mate was something else. He leaned against the partition between them as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Oh honey, don’t cry, it’ll be okay,” Sophie murmured to Cas.

“I don’t cry. I’m not crying,” he insisted. A gentle bump told Dean that Cas was leaning on the opposite side of the same partition he was. Dean closed his eyes and scolded himself for his selfishness. Whatever his feelings – and he really wasn’t quite sure what they were, just that they were there and had been for a long time – Cas deserved better than Dean was giving him. He heard the familiar hum of Castiel’s ring vibrating against the wall. Back still against the wall, he silently placed his left hand where he thought Cas’ right hand might be and sent a small prayer of comfort for Cas.

“Dean?” Cas called, startling him.

Dean jettisoned himself from the partition. “Uh, yeah, right next to ya, trying on some shirts. How’s the new wardrobe looking?” Dean stammered and fumbled with one of the shirts he’d neglected while listening.

“I’m told it makes me look attractive. I’m taking Sophie’s word for it.”

Dean laughed through his nervousness. “Yeah, you can trust a woman on that, Cas.”

The three of them exited the dressing room simultaneously. Cas’ eyes skated over Dean until they reached his eyes. He smiled a small, warm smile at him – _my smile_ , as Dean had come to think of it – before turning away. He swallowed his nerves as he both reveled in the warmth of that smile meant only for him and flinched at the thought that he may have another smile he reserved for his light-mate.

Several hundred dollars later (“You guys, he has _nothing_ ,” Sophie had argued as she handed her plastic to the salesclerk), they were finally able to leave the mall. The three men breathed the cool fall air deeply, as if they hadn’t seen sunlight in years. Sophie told them to stop being dramatic. The four stopped at a chain restaurant in another shopping plaza down the road for dinner. They introduced Cas to mozzarella sticks (“they taste like nothing”) and ghost peppers (“interesting”), and though he didn’t need to eat he ordered a burger topped with the peppers. The waitress marveled at his ability to eat the peppers without anything to cool his mouth, and flirted with him about how he must be even hotter than the peppers to be able to withstand them the way he did. Dean looked on in amusement as Cas pondered this. When Cas said, in his serious tone, “I don’t know how I compare to the heat of the ghost peppers. I suppose someone would have to taste me and tell me which is hotter,” the waitress rushed off, both in embarrassment and to get more napkins to mop up the water Dean had spit all over the table. Sam and Sophie laughed until they couldn’t breathe. Cas looked at Dean, who was wiping his face with the corner of the napkin that didn’t get wet, and said, “Did I miss something? Was that a flirtation?” Dean laughed harder and nodded his head as Cas turned away and fixed his eyes on the wall with the tacky decorations.

Castiel wondered if this was what Carwyn meant when she said he would have to feel vulnerable. He certainly felt it, though he wasn’t sure how this was supposed to help. They were laughing at him. As the mirth died down a bit, he felt Dean bump his leg into Cas’. When he looked at Dean, Dean leaned in and said, so only Cas could hear him, “That was awesome.” Cas kept his leg pressed to Dean’s but looked away shyly toward Sophie, who was holding her hand up gleefully. “High five, man, that was great!” she cheered. He raised his hand and she slapped it loudly. Sam raised his glass of beer toward Cas in salute; Cas raised his glass of water in return. Cas surreptitiously peeked at some of the other tables, where people were smiling or laughing. He felt the buzzing of the positive energy in the room. Nobody was really laughing _at_ him, not maliciously. Rather, it seemed that Cas, through just the marvel of being himself, brought some joy to others. He breathed in and allowed the energy to flow through him. When the waitress returned with more napkins, he apologized, to which she replied, “Hon, that was the best comeback I’ve ever heard,” and all of them, even Cas, laughed again.

The evening wore on, through a trip to the ice cream shop down the road, where the brothers taught Cas how to stick a spoon to his nose, to the flower shop, where Sam and Sophie got wedding ideas and Cas taught Dean about the meanings of different plants and when they were created, to the lingerie boutique, where Sophie quizzed Sam about his preferences for their honeymoon and Dean didn’t dare to look at anything, lest he get some ideas in his head about certain articles of clothing (and who he might want to share them with). The final stop of the evening was a club called Star Struck, which featured “Dancing, karaoke, and a hell of a good time!” according to the sign at the entrance.

The club was deceptively small on the outside. The inside was large and split off into different rooms. One featured a light-up dance floor and strobe lights. Another was a room with a long, rectangular hardwood floor. The main room featured a full bar, seating at round tables, and a small stage with karaoke equipment, a piano, and a guitar. A sign posted next to the stage advertised karaoke from 8-11pm tonight, amateur comedy tomorrow night, and the folk rock sounds of someone named Finola Capin on Monday night.

“Isn’t this exciting? Oh my gosh, come on, Cas, let’s go sign up! You’ve gotta change, too!” she yelled as she dragged him ahead of the others. “You guys get a table!”

The brothers snagged a table in the middle of the crowd. There was enough space to move around fairly comfortably, though it was crowded. The karaoke had already started. A man with long brown hair streaked with gray sang _Any Way You Want It_.

“He’s no Steve Perry,” Sam muttered. Dean wholeheartedly agreed.

A few minutes later, Sophie returned with three beers. Dean was concentrating on blocking out the sound of someone butchering _Smoke on the Water_. He caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman sitting at the bar, who he completely ignored in favor of the man standing in profile next to her in black boots, tight indigo jeans, and a plum, fitted, long-sleeved Henley. The woman wrapped a manicured hand around his bicep, which flexed as he untucked his hand from his pocket to pay the bartender for whatever he just ordered. He caught a shock of dark hair when the woman shifted but was more fascinated by the sliver of skin he saw between the man’s shirt and jeans when the man quickly reached around someone for something on the bar top. The man then rested his hand on the woman’s shoulder and whispered something to her in a gesture that looked _very_ familiar. Dean’s fear was confirmed a moment later when the man turned around and his mouth went dry.

Damn it. He was checking out Cas. And he hadn’t pried his eyes away yet.

A saxophone blaring _Careless Whisper_ accompanied Castiel’s walk to their table. Dean glared at Sophie.

“What? I just thought he should have some entrance music.” She smirked at Dean and winked. “Like his outfit, Dean?”

He stared at her crossly before resting his eyes back on Cas, who placed the bag with the clothes he’d been wearing on the floor. He set a napkin and his bottle of spring water on the table and unscrewed the cap.

Dean slowed his breathing and raised an eyebrow in question at Cas.

“I’m trying to maintain a clear mind, Dean. I’m trying to be true to this process and feel what I’m supposed to feel.”

“You can’t have a clear mind on one beer? Cas, it takes a liquor store to make you drunk.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m choosing to keep my mind clear and honest.”

Dean wondered whether he should be doing the same, but decided he didn’t want to feel what he was supposed to feel. He gulped a mouthful down along with his guilt.

Castiel absorbed the energies of the people around him and immediately identified those who were in most need of support. He resolved to focus some of his energy on them throughout the evening. He had already started with the woman at the bar. Jenny approached him and asked him if he wanted to “get out of here” with her. Earlier Sophie had coached him on some phrases he might hear that mean “I want to have sex with you,” and that was one of them. Rather than answering her question, he asked her why she looked so sad. That led to her admission that she was lonely after breaking off an unhealthy relationship of five years. They talked about the benefits of being alone for a while and of connecting with others in healthier ways, and that she would eventually find her way. She squeezed his arm in thanks, and he encouraged her to ask for help and to trust in herself and in love. She said she hoped to find a guy like him someday. He didn’t tell her that perhaps she ought to aim a little higher than a guy like him. Carwyn would’ve chastised him for that.

At 10:00 p.m. the emcee announced Sophie’s name. She stood and walked to the stage and cleared her throat. She opened her mouth and began singing _At Last_ , looking at Sam most of the time. He grinned dopily at her, utterly smitten. Castiel smiled at his friends and drew strength from their bond. He closed his eyes and allowed the music and the words to wash over him. Castiel had discovered that when he couldn’t figure out how to say something or what he was feeling, music was a reliable way of expressing himself. It seemed to transcend his ongoing awkwardness with human ways and provided a common language that surpassed the limits of spoken English (or even Enochian for that matter). He figured it was the poetry of music, the symbolism and metaphor, that allowed that transcendence to occur. Whatever it was, it created connection that he used to strengthen the life energy he was learning to harness (and flow).

“Let’s give it up for Sophie!” the emcee chirped amidst applause as Sophie left the stage and collapsed into a congratulatory hug and kiss from Sam. “Next up, help me welcome Cas to the Star Struck stage!” Cas pushed up his sleeves, revealing toned forearms. The audience applauded politely as the tall, handsome man climbed the stairs and took the microphone in his hands. He scanned the audience, only spending milliseconds on each person but making sure each person felt the connection he was trying to push out to them. He inhaled deeply and said, in his dark voice, “I am here to face a few fears of mine. I gratefully welcome your support in doing so, and only ask that you sing along. You’ll know when.” He stopped and faced down as the music swelled and he prepared to sing.

Dean, Sam, and Sophie didn’t know what to expect, but they didn’t expect what happened next. Cas chose _Hallelujah_ by Panic! at the Disco, a loud, high-energy song that he ripped into with gusto. Sophie whooped and cheered loudly as he began, instantly recognizing the song. Many others in the audience also recognized it and started singing along and cheering. Sam and Sophie screamed as Castiel, the reserved angel they knew and loved, threw his body and voice into the song, moving his arms wide and strutting like a rock god. After the first verse, he jumped from the stage into the audience and waved his arms for them to stand as he sang the chorus:

_All you sinners stand up, sing hallelujah (hallelujah)_

_Show praise with your body, stand up, sing hallelujah (hallelujah)_

_And if you can’t stop shaking, lean back, let it move right through ya (hallelujah)_

_Say your prayers, say your prayers, say your prayers (hallelujah)_

Dean watched as the crowd danced in place and sang around him. Awe was the only word he had to describe the feeling of watching Cas. He’d never seen this side of him, had no idea the awkward angel could even act this way. It was powerful and seductive in a way he’d never experienced, and it both frightened and intrigued him. He stood to join the crowd as Cas launched into the second verse. Cas had been focusing his attention on different people in the audience as he sang, but he was still stunned when Cas stopped in front of him. Although it was just a few seconds, it felt like slow motion as Cas stood before him and cupped his jaw in one hand, the ring on his right hand scraping across the stubble as he sang to him:

_I love the things you hate about yourself_

_Just finish the daydream, who were you trying to be?_

And as quickly as he came, he went, moving to another area of the floor. Dean tried not to read too much into it, but for the rest of the song he was in a daze. He clapped and sang along, but his mind was stuck in the moment when Cas’ hand cradled his face (and neither one of them was hurt or dying), and he spoke directly to his insecurities, to his soul. Although he was aware how corny that sounded, there was no other description, and for Cas, his angel ( _an angel, not his angel_ ), it wasn’t far off the mark. He vaguely heard the boisterous singing and clapping of the crowd as they sang the end chorus together with Cas, but his mind was far, far away from the little club in Kearney. It wasn’t until Dean heard Cas’ serious “thank you” through the thunderous applause that he was brought back to the room.

As Castiel ended the song, he looked around at the impact he made on the souls within. He had chosen the song for its high energy, yes, but also its message. It was his mission to repent for his sins, to shout praise and a message of unity into the multiverse, and to let the energy flow through him, a concept with which he was struggling a bit. Letting go had always been hard. He knew, though, that others struggled with the same things, and it was the perfect song to encourage mutual help and support. A warm breeze flowed through him across the audience as he smiled and said “thank you” to the crowd. He felt their support, and he hoped they felt his. But there was one person, one soul, that he hoped had gotten the message more than everyone else. He hated that Dean tortured himself with self-doubt and feelings of worthlessness. If Dean’s soul was the Earth’s sun, then his self-doubt was the grime on the window that kept the rays from fully shining through. Castiel kept hoping he could do something to wash it away. However, his work with Carwyn suggested that only Dean could do that.

Cas was wrapped in Sophie’s hug as soon as he stepped off the stage. “Oh my God, you were _amazing_! Where did you learn to do that?” she screamed above the raucous applause.

“Concert videos on YouTube,” he answered seriously above the noise.

She laughed and hugged him again and he enthusiastically returned her embrace until he spotted a man approaching him, one he’d spotted earlier and had wanted to talk to sometime this evening. He excused himself and stepped out of the way of the stairs of the stage so the next act could step up. He headed toward the bar, assuming the man would follow.

Dean watched curiously as Cas struck up a conversation with the tall, attractive guy with the dark blond hair. He watched the guy smile, gesture, and lean in to Cas. Cas grasped the guy’s elbow as he spoke to him with those intense, serious blue eyes. The guy’s head started to hang lower as he nodded, and his face grew more serious. Although it looked like the conversation had taken a turn, Dean could see the guy was still trying to hit on Cas. He didn’t bother to disguise the lust in his eyes, and it made Dean want to punch the guy, which he immediately thought was foolish and wrong. Cas could be with whoever he wanted. He just had to keep reminding himself of that. Dean just thought he deserved better than some hookup at a club.

As he stared at the scene unfolding at the bar, two women approached Dean. He smiled and tried to turn on the charm, but his usual ebullience was muted. The women both gave Dean their phone numbers with the request to “please give them to your friend.” Dean agreed and shoved them into his pocket, knowing he would just throw them away later. He collected two more on his way to the bathroom, where he crumpled all four numbers into the trash and splashed some water on his face to try to calm the roller coaster in his gut. Cas was back at their table when he returned, telling them about the blond man and how Cas tried to help him with his self-esteem problem, and Dean released a relieved sigh.

“Hey man,” he said to Cas when his story was done. “That song was awesome. I’m impressed. Didn’t know you had it in you. Good job, man.” He held out his hand, palm upturned and flat. Cas looked at him curiously, one eyebrow scrunched in thought. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” Dean joked.

Cas slowly slid his hand palm-down into Dean’s and held it, squeezing slightly, as he cocked his head and gave Dean a questioning stare.

Dean looked down at their clasped hands. _Oh my God, I’m holding hands with Cas._ Dean flushed and said gruffly, “Five, Cas. I wanted you to give me a high five. You know, a hand slap?”

“Your hand wasn’t held aloft, Dean,” Cas noted.

“It doesn’t have to actually be held up, Cas!”

“Then ‘high five’ is a misnomer.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Dean said as he felt his face get hotter. “Just… they can go either way, alright?”

“Alright, Dean.”

“Alright.”

“Dean.”

“What?”

Cas squinted at him. “Are you going to let go of my hand?”

Dean felt the sweat pooling on his body as he dropped Cas’ hand like it was on fire. He refused to look at Sam and Sophie, knowing they must be smirking and trying to contain their laughter. He grabbed his beer and drank it down greedily.

Sophie chose that moment to announce that they were going to check out the action in the next room. Dean was relieved that there would be a distraction to the colossal blunder he’d made with Cas. His relief was short-lived as they pushed through the doors that separated the karaoke from the action in the next room.

“I’m not doing that. No,” Dean said as he saw the people line dancing across the scuffed wood floor.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Come on, Cas, Sam,” she said as she dragged them out to the floor. They stood in the back of the room until they could catch up with the rest of the crowd. Cas stumbled through the first song, and looked hopelessly lost in the second. Clearly, his talent for singing did not extend to line dancing. Dean chuckled as the powerful being stepped when he should’ve kicked and nearly crashed into the person in front of him. The brunette turned around and he muttered an apology as she raked her eyes up and down his body appreciatively. Dean saw her flutter her lashes and say something to him as she stood in front of him and placed his hands on her hips, encouraging him to follow her steps. Sam and Sophie were doing nothing to stop it. Dean had enough.

“Struggling a little bit, Cas?” he teased as he plunked an arm on his shoulders and interrupted their dance.

“Mightily,” Cas sighed.

“Here, I’ll help you. Let’s go to the back, huh?” He turned to the woman. “Sorry, I’m gonna steal my best friend here.” Dean smiled at her, but his eyes told her to back off. She scowled and turned away. Dean led Cas to stand behind Sam and Sophie, who had gotten the hang of the dance and were moving easily through it. Dean showed Cas a few steps slowly, letting Cas try each one out before they put them together. The two friends laughed through Cas’ ineptitude and Dean’s better-than-average skill as he showboated for Cas, exaggerating his movements and even clicking his heels in a jaunty move. Dean felt the awkwardness and jealousies of earlier fade into the background.

The four friends returned to the table after several songs, exhausted and parched. Cas was excitedly telling them about how much energy was in the room. The group chatted amiably until the emcee returned to the stage.

“And now, we’re going to announce tonight’s karaoke winner,” he bellowed. “Although I have to say, despite all of our wonderful talent tonight, there was no contest.” The crowd cheered as the emcee called, “Cas, come on up!” Castiel looked around his table as his friends urged him to go to the stage. The emcee handed him a fistful of cash and said, “It’s our tradition for the winner to sing another song. Who wants to hear Cas give us another song?” The audience cheered loudly in answer. Cas stood humbly on the stage as the emcee whispered to him, asking him what song he wanted to perform. Cas whispered back to him and the emcee shrugged and indicated the instruments behind him. He nodded as the emcee handed him the mic and stepped off the stage.

Cas looked out at the audience and said, hesitantly, “Um, well. Thank you for this. I… could not have done this without your support and the support of my friends, so thank you.” He nodded at his table before continuing. “As I mentioned earlier, I came to face a few fears of mine. I’m not done,” he huffed a self-deprecating laugh, earning a few chuckles from the audience, “probably never will be, but I worked on it tonight, and I am stronger and happier as a result.” He took a deep breath. “To be honest, I probably would’ve stayed complacent if I didn’t have something so important to fight for. But love – not the love of human fairy tales, but messy, complicated, fierce, infuriating, joyful love – is worth facing myself and anyone who would try to keep me away from it. I hope you find yours. I hope eventually that mine will be returned. Either way, I know what I’m fighting for.” He turned and placed the mic in the stand by the piano, and sat down facing the keys. His friends sat, transfixed and silent, processing the puddle of words Cas had poured out.

Cas’ fingers caressed the keys as he began the song, a gentler, acoustic version of a song Dean recognized from Cas’ playlist when they played it in the Impala. He had teased Cas about the song (“Hey Cas, they wrote a song about you”), but as Cas’ heart-wrenching voice washed through his senses, he paid attention to the song for the first time and realized it really was about Cas. Pain, heartbreak, and _something_ for his friend threatened to flood Dean as he heard Cas sing:

_I’m an angel with a shotgun_

_Fighting ‘til the war’s won_

_I don’t care if Heaven won’t take me back_

_I’ll throw away my faith, babe_

_Just to keep you safe_

_Don’t you know you’re everything I have?_

Dean couldn’t dwell on the tiny voice in his head that said _this song kinda sounds like us_ as he listened to Cas, desire and longing cracking his voice, sing:

_And I… want to live not just survive tonight_

Dean thought back to the night of Sam and Sophie’s engagement announcement, the time they spent on the dock. Cas had sought him out, simply to see if he was okay. Cas had listened to him, called him out, saw right through him. _It’s okay to want to love someone fiercely and completely and have them love you fiercely and completely in return._ Cas had said he only wanted to laugh. Maybe what he really wanted was the same kind of love Dean did. He closed his eyes briefly to the thought. _I’m always too wrapped up in my own crap to see what Cas needs._ Guilt and regret filled his gut as Cas poured himself into the piano, beautiful hands playing the soundtrack to Cas’ confession. He vowed, as he watched Cas finish the song and catch Dean’s eyes, that he would help Cas find the love he wanted, no matter how much it hurt. He didn’t dwell too much on why it hurt.

__________________

Songs referenced in this chapter:

_Any Way You Want It_ by Journey

_Smoke on the Water_ by Deep Purple

_Careless Whisper_ by Wham!

_At Last_ by Etta James

_Hallelujah_ by Panic! at the Disco

_Angel with a Shotgun_ by The Cab

 


	23. Invitation

Keeping Dean’s vow was easier said than done. For days, even weeks after their night out in Kearney, things between Cas and Dean vacillated between oddly domestic and wanting to throttle each other, which Sophie said amounted to the same thing. Dean blew her off.

Dean woke up most mornings spent at the bunker to the sound of Cas singing quietly while making breakfast or while tending to his plants, and it reminded him of his dream so vividly his heart ached. He wore different outfits each day after Sophie told him that humans like variety and he’d be more believable that way, plus reminding him she wanted him to actually use the things she bought, so it was always a surprise to see what Cas chose for himself that morning. Cas usually made coffee, and he had taken to touching Dean in some way in greeting when he would hand the coffee to him. He explained that Carwyn had told him he needed to increase physical demonstrations of caring. Dean tried to notice if he received more or less touch than the others in the household, but he couldn’t tell other than seeing that Sophie usually roped him into a hug. Cas invited Dean to take walks or to tell him stories about growing up or to help with his plants. He attempted to learn more about Dean’s car and he told Dean stories about himself in return. The urge to keep Cas all to himself and _not_ track down this absent beloved of his was overwhelming, so in order to tamp it down and stay focused, he picked fights. Daily. As they drove to Sophie’s brother’s house with Sam, Sophie, and Mary in tow for Thanksgiving dinner, Dean argued with Cas over the meaning of Thanksgiving and the type of pie that you _had_ to have and why Cas had to be polite to Sophie’s uncle even though the guy was a douche.

“Don’t let him talk down to you, Dean,” Cas growled quietly as they stepped out of the car.

“I can put up with it for one day, Cas. It’s no big deal,” he grumbled back.

“It is. The last time we saw him…”

“Was a while ago and he was drunk and we don’t need to rehash it,” Dean interrupted. “Now come on. You like the rest of her family and they like you. Let’s focus on that, alright?”

Cas glared at Dean. They continued the argument with their eyes and non-verbal gestures as Sophie barreled past them and into the house, greeting everyone warmly.

Tension simmered between Dean and Castiel as Dean watched him glare daggers at Sophie’s Uncle Norm whenever he got the chance. Sam and Sophie had never heard the argument that happened between Dean and Norm that had Castiel seething, but they felt the anger rolling off Castiel in waves. Norm made a drunken offhand comment that sounded innocent, but which both Dean and Cas remembered from the previous argument. Dean recognized the look on Cas’ face as his “I will kill you and have no qualms about it” look and his mind raced to think of something to do to calm Cas down before either his smiting hand or his angel blade made an appearance. He gripped Castiel’s thigh under the table before Cas could stand, knowing that if Cas really wanted to kill someone, a simple touch of a human hand wasn’t going to stop him. It was enough to startle Cas out of his murderous thoughts, because he whipped his head to his left to look at Dean. Dean clutched his thigh and held his stare, breathing slowly and willing Cas to follow his breathing pattern. His breath slowed to keep pace with Dean’s until Dean felt the muscles in Cas’ leg relax. They continued to stare as the others obliviously chattered around them, until Norm, loud and slurring, said, “You gonna kiss about it or what, you friggin’…”

“Okaaay, that’s enough, Norm,” Sophie’s father said sternly as he stood and grabbed him by the arm. “Come with me,” and he hustled him out of the dining room. Sophie’s mother shot Dean and Cas an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry about him,” she said nervously. “He’s…well, let’s face it, he’s not a nice person, drunk or sober. But Dave feels responsible for his brother, so…”

“No need to apologize for the behavior of another, Beth,” Castiel responded, warmth returning to his eyes. “The rest of your family has always been very kind to me. To all of us,” he said as he glanced at Dean, Mary and Sam. She reached across the table for his hand and squeezed it affectionately to assure herself of his words. Castiel’s movement reminded Dean that he still had his hand on his thigh. He casually removed it and returned his hands to his silverware.

The tension had dissolved when Sophie’s father returned a few minutes later. “He’s sacked out in the guest room,” he muttered to his wife before turning to the table. “I’m sorry, Castiel and Dean and everyone,” he announced. “You are our guests and our friends. I’m sorry my brother acted like an ass and ruined the dinner.” Everyone reassured him that dinner wasn’t ruined and that all was forgiven. They resumed eating, the mood lightened, and the rest of the meal passed without incident.

Later, during halftime of the college game on the TV, Sophie suddenly shouted, “Oh my God, Carwyn must be here!” She bolted away from her seat next to Dean, who had started to exude heat from his pores. Sophie’s sister-in-law Kelly, who was seated next to Cas, twisted herself to face him and checked his forehead with her wrist, pulling back quickly from the temperature of his skin. He shrugged as she looked at him with concern.

A knock at the door interrupted the sleepy late afternoon and confirmed Sophie’s suspicion. A balmy breeze flowed over Beth as she opened the door to find a lovely stranger standing gracefully on her welcome mat.

“Elizabeth, hello,” she greeted her kindly, and Beth accepted the stranger without question, not even caring how she knew her name. She opened the door in a giddy daze.

Carwyn greeted Sophie’s father, her sister-in-law, and her brother Matt in turn before greeting Sam, Sophie, and Mary, then Dean and Castiel in her usual manner. She invited them to sit before explaining the reason for her visit. Dean looked around the room at how they were all enraptured with Carwyn. He shook his head at how she had them thoroughly wrapped around her finger.

“I would like you to accompany me for a short while to assist Castiel with a problem he is having,” she explained to Sophie’s family as simply as she could. Sophie’s family was aware that Cas was an angel, which never ceased to amaze them, and they were aware that he was waging a “campaign of love,” as Kelly explained it, but they had no idea what he was up against or how they could help. Still, they didn’t hesitate, all nodding as she explained what they would do and asked if now would be a convenient time. She summoned Sophie, her parents, and her brother and sister-in-law, then tilted her head in a very Cas-like manner and thought for a moment before asking Sam and Mary to come, too. Dean felt like the kid picked last for the team, and he scowled at Carwyn, who smiled serenely at him.

“So what am I supposed to do?” he griped at her.

“You may go home, if you wish. I’ll return them all safely,” she replied, ignoring his obvious distress at being excluded.

“A word?” he asked as he beckoned her to another room. She followed and leaned against the door after closing it behind her. The wind started to die from his sails as he looked at her, and he felt the familiar tug-of-war of arousal and fear, want and worthlessness in his body. She glowed more brightly than he’d seen her before, her skin almost luminous. Her silky curls draped wildly around her shoulders as her eyes shone brilliantly. She wore her usual dark jeans and boots, but added a dark purple women’s-cut football jersey and… damn it _, Cas_ ’ trench coat. Seeing her in his coat steeled his resolve and he barked, “I see what you’re doing.”

She appeared nonplussed. “What is that, Dean?”

“You’re getting them all on your side, getting them to believe whatever mind tricks you’re playing!”

“I don’t trick anyone, and I always give the choice.”

He pointed his finger accusingly at her. “Yeah, just like angels can’t take over someone’s body without giving them the choice, right? That’s what you’re doing, except you’re taking over their minds instead, manipulating them so they won’t refuse!”

She pursed her lips slightly as she observed him. Dean began to feel unsettled and grappled with the dilemma to stay or leave. As he marched toward the door she was blocking, she said, “Dean. You are worthy. You are just not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to give your Castiel what he needs from you. Ready to invite me into your life. My invitation is always open. You are the one who continues to refuse it.”

“You didn’t invite me to come do whatever you’re doing with them.”

Carwyn said firmly, “You don’t want to come. You want to prove that you are correct – that I must be doing something sinister. You insist on holding on to your life raft of distrust and self-doubt, not realizing that there are far too many holes to keep you afloat.”

Dean didn’t answer, but swallowed hard.

Gently, she continued, “Dean, I will not bring you there until you are ready. I will not force a choice upon you that you do not willingly make. Love is freedom, Dean, not coercion, not fear, not deception. When you trust me – when you are truly willing to allow me into your soul – call to me, and I will answer.”

A warm gust signaled Carwyn’s exit. Dean leaned over, resting his hands on his legs, and took a few deep breaths, willing the tears prickling his eyes to abate. When he returned to the living room, everyone was gone. Hurt and betrayal seeped into his consciousness and forced the tears to spill onto his cheeks. He cursed them all and cursed himself the most.

After a quick check to make sure Uncle Norm was still asleep and hadn’t died in his own vomit, Dean slid into the Impala and slammed the door, not even apologizing to his Baby. He barely caught sight of the note that fluttered to the passenger side footwell. He ignored the usual Enochian and read:

_Dear Dean – I am sorry we had to go, and on Thanksgiving, which seems like a significant day to you, even though we could eat these foods with these people on any other day and even though the entire romanticized myth about the dinner between the Native American people and the people who arrived on their land from England seems peculiar._ Dean tried not to smile. _Perhaps I should have insisted we wait. Should I have insisted? I’m still so used to following commands that I sometimes forget to think for myself. I think I should have insisted. I am sorry for my thoughtlessness. I feel fortunate that I was able to share something you feel is special with you._ Dean wanted to crumple the note in his hands, but instead felt the anger seep out of him as he read Cas’ rambling. _I think we will only be gone a few hours, as measured on Earth, but as this was a surprise I do not know what else Carwyn may have planned. If I will be gone more than a few hours, I will contact you somehow. I hope you do not feel slighted. If you do, please inform me and I will speak to Carwyn. But please, be sincere. Sometimes when you use sarcasm I am not certain what you really want. It is much easier if you just say how you feel and what you want and need. I recognize that this is hypocritical coming from me._ Dean laughed loudly. _You are probably laughing at me right now._ Dean stopped laughing as he absorbed just how well Cas knew him. _This note is long, and for that I apologize, but I suppose I just wasn’t prepared to leave you. They are waiting for me. I will see you soon. Fondly, Cas XOXO (Sophie told me to write those. She won’t tell me what they mean but said you would know.)_

Dean read the note over and over until he could breathe without sadness, fear, and longing strangling him.

 


	24. Wolves in Sheep's Clothing

As the calendar stormed into December, the Winchester family was called to assist a couple of new hunters in Pennsylvania who had their hands full with a pack of werewolves in the Pocono Mountains.

“This weather sucks,” Dean muttered as he sat in the passenger seat of the all-wheel drive car his mother was using these days.

“Well, you’re hardly dressed for the weather,” Mary chided as they pulled into a camping area near Beltzville Lake. The area was, of course, nearly deserted save for a dented white truck parked in the spot next to them. The two hunters, a married couple named Julie and Ron Spitzer, hopped out of their truck as the Winchesters arrived, not dressed for the snow and wind any better than Dean was. He gave his mother a smug look.

“Thanks for comin’,” Julie greeted them as she extended her hand. “Julie Spitzer, and this is my husband Ron.” The family greeted the couple, then pulled the items they would need from the trunk of the SUV, including plenty of silver bullets.

Julie explained that the werewolves had been sniffing around the lake area for a while, but were beginning to get desperate as the weather turned. She credited them with at least five kills.

“I didn’t find any information online,” Sam said. “Maybe we should start with the police or the coroner.”

“Been there, done that,” Ron drawled as they made their way along a well-worn path into the woods. “They’re trying not to make it public, so that’s probably why you didn’t find anything. Hearts are gone. They think all the cases are hunting trips gone bad. I guess they’re right, in a way.”

No one said anything for a few minutes as they trekked further away from their vehicles. About fifteen minutes into the walk, the couple veered off the path.

“We’ve been tracking them for a while now,” Ron started as they stepped through and around fallen brush. “Of course, they like to be hidden. Hiding out here is about as hidden as they can get.”

“There isn’t anyone out here. How are they feeding?” Sam asked. He looked at Dean.

“Cabins, like that one up ahead where we’re staying,” Julie explained as a small camp house came into view. Smoke billowed silently out of the rock-faced chimney. “People are still hunting deer out here. Lots of people have family camps just for that. Guys come out here, they’re by themselves. No one’s gonna hear them scream.” They walked toward the camp and let the Winchesters in.

“Coffee?” Julie asked as they took in their surroundings. Wood appeared to be the dominant theme – the floors, walls, and ceiling were all white pine, covered only by red scatter rugs, a countryside tapestry, and a large, yellowed map of the area. A tattered, floral print couch flanked by two worn mustard yellow recliners and a rattan coffee table completed the living room. Forest green halogen floor lamps were the most modern items in the room.

As the coffee brewed, Ron explained all that they knew about the werewolves – their patterns, their victims, and the evidence they found. The hunters sipped coffee as they discussed their plan. Mary interrupted to ask for the bathroom, and Julie pointed down the hall. The rest continued their planning and decided the hunt should only take a few hours if they left right away. Ron said he suspected that “the monsters” were nearby.

“How ‘bout it guys?” he smiled. “Think we can take them tonight?”

It was the last thing the Winchesters heard before they collapsed.

***

Energy spun through Castiel as he dipped and dived through opponent after opponent in the barn arena, his training grounds. Heavy rock music pulsed through his grace as he pushed and shaped the prayer energy through his hands. His hair was windblown, his thin white t-shirt covered in dust. White smoke hovered above his head. His feet became black with ash as he leapt and lunged. Carwyn, dressed in yoga pants and a blue t-shirt, was relentless in her drilling but also called out encouragement and didn’t let him get killed when he was attacked by multiple opponents. He usually didn’t need her rescue.

“You are becoming much stronger, Castiel,” she said when she finally allowed him some peace. They materialized at the stream for some meditation. He would be meeting with his angel allies soon, and calling on some of the humans he and the other angels had befriended during their “missions,” before he could finally return to the bunker. Castiel felt the power of their work every day. The fact that a few of the angels had regained their wings won him a lot of trust he had lost, and he was glad. He wanted the love he had found to benefit humans and angels alike. For too long, their differences tore them apart rather than brought them together. Castiel felt like he was slowly knitting the strands back together, and though some angels still weren’t entirely certain that he should pursue a human soul, they couldn’t deny that the love he felt came from a pure place that they could only hope to understand someday.

As Castiel meditated and answered prayers, he felt a distress call tear through angel radio. Simultaneously, he felt the rings on his hands sear his skin. He gasped and his eyes flew open.

“They’re in trouble. My family… they’re in trouble,” he said anxiously to Carwyn. “I must go.” Carwyn stopped him as he stood.

“Castiel. What did you hear?”

“Adrienne. She called out over angel radio. She has found Dean, Sam, and Mary close to death. I need to go.”

“Wait!” Carwyn called. “How did she find them? How did she know where they are?”

Castiel paused. Dean and Sam had angel warding carved into their ribs. He sighed. “It’s a trap,” he concluded.

“I believe so,” she replied.

“I must go anyway.”

“I believe so,” she said. “Tread carefully. Harness and flow, Castiel.”

“Harness and flow,” he repeated as he flew to the location Adrienne had called out.

Dean opened his eyes to a dire situation. He was so, so cold. To his left and right stood Mary and Sam, both chained to trees as he was. He could see that Mary’s face was pale, her lips turning blue. Sam was shivering uncontrollably. Dean felt sleepy. He just wanted to go back to sleep, but something in his brain told him he needed to fight.

“Wakey, wakey!” Ron jeered as he slapped Dean in the face. He flashed coal black demon eyes at him. _Shit_.

“We have your angel coming to save you,” Julie taunted as she studied his face. She looked unaffected by the cold. “Didn’t take much, either. All I had to do was cry out, ‘Dean Winchester is dying!’ on angel radio.” _A rogue angel. Double shit._ Dean used what semblance of coherent thought he had left to pray to Cas. _Don’t come, it’s a trap. At least one angel and one demon here_. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he looked at Sam and his mother, who at least both looked somewhat alert. He fought harder to stay awake and struggled to think of how to get out of this. He felt that he had his weapons on him. They were so conceited they hadn’t bothered to strip him of them. Dean struggled against the chains. He was stuck.

“Release them,” Castiel snarled as he appeared in the clearing. Dean expected to see the flash of his angel blade, but saw nothing. _He’s not even dressed for the weather._ He became distracted quickly from that worried, ridiculous thought as more people emerged from the trees, surrounding the Winchesters. He figured there must’ve been at least twenty. _Damn it. Too many. Just too many._

“Nah, I don’t think so, you pathetic excuse for an angel,” Julie spat. “I think you’re gonna watch them die instead. It’s going to be the endgame, anyway. Might as well speed up the process, don’t you think? Put you out of your misery. Or rather, put you back into your misery,” she sneered. Her angel blade slid into her hand from her sleeve as the mixed group of angels and demons descended upon the trio. The three looked up in defiance and dread as they watched helplessly and waited for their deaths to come… but they didn’t. Instead, their chains fell and they were restored to health from their near-death exposure to the elements. The demons and angels stopped, and screams of fury ripped through them as they slammed against a transparent golden shield surrounding the Winchesters that neither weapons nor brute force could break. Quickly, they turned their fury to Castiel, whose outstretched hand and focused eyes gave them pause. All at once, the horde surged toward him.

Castiel willed the protection surrounding his family to stand, but he was having trouble accessing more of his power to simultaneously redeem or eliminate the beings running toward him. It required a presence of mind he struggled to maintain when he was so focused on the wellbeing of Dean and Sam and Mary. As the throng rapidly approached, Cas caught Dean’s eyes and saw horror, pain, and helplessness reflected back.

_Shielding others is not always love._

His mind raced.

_He’s a man of action. It’ll make him feel better to do something._

_If you allow him to help you, you allow him to demonstrate love for you in a way he understands._

_There will be a time when protecting them will be appropriate, but right now you are blocking the love you are trying to protect and keep._

Castiel released the protective barrier.

As soon as the barrier was released, the Winchesters swooped into action, attacking demons and angels in their path. With the momentary distraction of releasing the barrier, Julie took advantage, tackling Castiel to the ground. As she raised her blade above him, two words flashed through Castiel’s mind: _let go_. Letting go was the only way to allow the energy to flow where it needed to flow. In a second, he regained the strength to push her off, and felt her tumble off him as Dean swiftly grabbed her from behind and wrestled her to the ground. Cas quickly and efficiently refocused his efforts on shifting the energy flow through him to redeem or eliminate the angels and demons before him. The shrill wail of his true voice broke through the electric flash of power that emanated from his being, and the vessels collapsed onto the soaked ground where the snow had instantly melted from the scorching blast of air.

Sam and Mary stumbled over the bodies to attend to Dean, whose body was pinned under the weight of Julie, and Cas, who had fallen to his knees in the mud. Cas waved Sam off and stood carefully, feeling the crackle of energy resonate through his core as he walked over to check on Dean and Julie. Dean assured him that, other than a few scrapes, he was unharmed. Dean pulled Cas into a hasty one-armed hug he tried to pass off as a slap on the back, saying “thanks” as he released him. Castiel wasn’t sure what Dean was thanking him for, but decided that maybe it was for all of it – for healing him, for eliminating the threat, for trusting Dean to help. He wondered how he felt so warm despite the fact that angels didn’t feel temperature fluctuations.

“How’s Julie?” he asked to distract himself.

Julie Spitzer the hunter chose that moment to awaken, only her own soul possessing her body once again. “Where’s Ron?” she asked, panicked.

While they stayed with Julie, Mary collected Ron from a mud puddle a few yards away and brought him back to his wife. Castiel assisted the survivors of the attack and transported each of them home while Mary, Sam, and Dean returned to the cabin with the Spitzers and reviewed what happened. When Cas returned, he walked back to the parking lot with the Winchesters and the Spitzers, and they filled him in on the drive back to Kansas.

“So long story short, Julie and Ron were approached by this angel and this demon in other vessels, and they pretended to be the family members of these werewolf attack victims,” Sam explained. “Unfortunately, Julie and Ron are pretty new hunters, and they didn’t fact-check their information well enough and didn’t know anything about demons or angels. The demon possessed Ron and the angel convinced Julie that she could save him if she let her in.”

Dean drummed his fingers against the door panel in the back seat. “So, do we think this is the work of the insane angel posse?”

Cas furrowed his brows in confusion over the term, then relaxed his face as he chose to ignore it. “I think so, yes. Adrienne is similar to Marou in terms of her desire for power. She is easily influenced.”

“You think this was an order from her?” Mary asked from the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know,” Cas admitted, “but I do think it was a trap of some sort. She – they – baited me there. Either they were acting on orders or they were acting alone, perhaps to impress her.” The car fell silent until Cas said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save them all.” He stared out the window.

“Hey,” Dean tapped his forearm until Cas faced him, “none of that. You saved most of them. I feel bad we had to do what we did, but I’d do it again for you.” Dean stopped, realizing how that might have sounded. He blushed and rubbed his neck as he continued, “Uh, to help you. We all would. We weren’t going to let you be killed, man.” Castiel gave him a sad smile as Dean turned and stared at his thumbnail.

“Thank you,” Cas said, minutely shifting his arm to press lightly against Dean’s. “I have to go.”

Dean and Sam turned at the sudden announcement. “What do you mean?” Dean frowned.

“It’s becoming dangerous. I’m becoming a liability to you…”

“The hell you are.”

“Dean…”

“No, you don’t get to just blink out of here. We’d be _dead_ if you hadn’t come, so you’re clearly not a liability…”

“Stop, guys, just stop,” Sam interjected. “Let’s call Carwyn and see what she thinks. Cas, at least stick around until then. Okay?”

They grumbled their agreement to Sam’s suggestion, and refrained from arguing for the rest of the trip.

 


	25. Doubt and Fear Get You Nowhere, My Dear

Their restraint lasted as far as the war room.

Carwyn and Sophie watched with interest and Sam and Mary with exasperation as Dean and Cas continued the argument they’d started in the car.

“It’s getting dangerous,” Castiel whined to Carwyn. “Tell him it’s getting dangerous.”

“I know it’s getting dangerous, Sherlock,” Dean spat as he turned Cas around to face him. “Dangerous is what we do.”

“They are driven, Dean. They will not stop. It doesn’t make sense to keep dragging you into this…”

“When are you gonna get it through your thick skull that you’re not dragging me into anything?”

“Dean, I am becoming…”

“Don’t start on that liability bullshit, Cas.”

“Dean…”

“Or do you think I can’t handle it, is that it?”

“Of course not, Dean! I’m sorry I don’t want to watch you put yourself in mortal peril!”

“Oh, but it’s fine if _you_ do it, it’s fine if _you_ die, it’s fine for _me_ to watch that…”

“It’s clear that I cannot protect you the way I need to! That confrontation showed us that!”

“I don’t recall asking you to protect me, Cas! And you did protect us, you healed us and kept them from ripping us apart! Why do you conveniently forget the part where you kicked ass and focus on the part where you needed help? Don’t down yourself like that!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk about forgetting the good things you do and ‘downing yourself’…”

“My loves,” Carwyn said quietly as she stepped between them. She pressed her hands on their shoulders to gain their attention and gave them a moment to refocus. Dean and Cas stared at each other as their breathing slowed and synced. Dean heard Sophie mutter, “Holy moley, it’s roasting in here,” and he felt the sweat soaking his shirt. Dean’s nerves were on fire, fingers twitching at his sides, and Castiel’s grace surged and swirled through his body, but their eyes stayed locked.

“We do have a situation, yes,” Carwyn continued. “I believe it was to draw you out, Castiel. There are rumors. I think they are doing intelligence work. They want to know how much power you have.”

“Not enough,” Cas muttered as Dean flicked his hand against Cas’ arm and scowled. He scowled back and raised his eyebrows. Dean rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. Cas sneered and widened his eyes in response.

“You two, honestly… if it’s not eye sex it’s eye arguing. Cut it out and stop being childish,” Sophie griped. They stopped.

Carwyn laughed and said, “Back to the business at hand, my dears. Castiel, you need to continue as you have been. This is evidence that they are afraid. They have been escalating their efforts – attempting to cause civil disobedience, rioting, and chaos wherever they go. Unfortunately for them, you are a step ahead.”

Castiel tilted his head in question. The others waited expectantly.

“Castiel, the purpose of the meetings you were to partake in prior to being called away by Adrienne was to meet with your angel and human allies to hear about their progress in defeating the dark forces.”

_I think there’s a Star Wars joke in there._ Dean snickered at his thought.

“This has nothing to do with _Star Wars_ , Dean,” Carwyn said as she glanced at him coyly. Dean startled and stepped back as his brows knitted in confusion.

“As I was saying, you have gained many allies since the last time we met. Even now, I can feel their numbers growing. They are heartened by your sincerity and your successes, as well as by many of them regaining their full angelic abilities. As they have worked side by side with the humans your efforts have attracted, the angels have rediscovered the qualities that God loves so much in humans. The qualities _you_ love so much in humans, Castiel. That, along with your personal training and the involvement of Sam, Sophia, Mary, Sophia’s family, Claire, and the other humans and angels in training with you, has made you incredibly strong. You truly are ‘knitting the strands back together,’ as you were thinking, on a cosmic scale. The fibers of the Lifeforce are growing ever tighter, stronger, more resilient. I’ve gained a little muscle,” she winked as she flexed her bicep toward them jokingly. “You are, in fact, winning.”

Somberly, Cas said, “It will not be a victory until my light-mate is safe.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and said, gently, “No one is safe, Castiel, not really. It will not be a victory until you fully manifest your love for your light-mate, regardless of the ultimate outcome.”

She turned back to the group, about to speak, when Dean interrupted.

“So, what, he has to tell her he loves her, is that it?” Dean sputtered. “He wins by telling his light-mate he loves her? How friggin’ cliché. So, why don’t we just march right up to her now and get it over with? What are we waiting for?” Dean could feel the heat of his frustration and fear rising, and it spurred him on. “Or, maybe you could just bring her into your little fold in the universe for ‘training,’ like you have _everyone else but me_ , apparently! Or hey, Carwyn,” he yelled as he stood with her toe to toe, “how about, since you’re all-powerful, that you just _kill them all_ and do everyone a favor? Why do all the God-figures in this damn universe not wanna get their hands dirty?”

Dean glared at her, urging her to meet his challenge. But Carwyn gazed at him, and he found only acceptance and the desire to offer comfort. His shame, unworthiness, and desire for the comfort she offered welled up through his chest. Unable to manage his feelings, he broke the gaze to focus on Cas, who surely would be pissed. Pissed he could handle. But Cas gazed at him the same way, those oh-so-familiar blue eyes shining with caring, with acceptance, with comfort, with something Dean couldn’t name but wanted like nothing else in his life. So he raged.

“And why you’re buying into this shit, Cas, I have no idea. Why don’t you just man up and tell your light-mate about how _in_ _love_ you are with her and save everyone a lot of trouble, go live happily ever after, huh? She clearly seems to be the key here, if you trust Carwyn, some woman who just _showed up_ in my dreams. Yeah, nothing suspicious about that at all. Cas, she doesn’t even trust me to be part of this training shit with you. You think that’s someone to be trusted? Over me?” His breaths were heaving as Castiel tried to take Dean’s arms in his hands. Dean pushed him away. Cas stepped into Dean’s space, inches from his face, refusing to budge.

“Dean…”

“No, Cas! Think about it. Does this really make sense? The power of love? Angels _working_ with humans instead of being giant dicks? All of this you’re doing is gonna amount to _nothing_ , Cas. I don’t know how she’s making your powers stronger, but it ain’t the power of love!”

“It will _never_ amount to nothing, Dean!”

“I know what she wants you to believe, man! She wants you to believe that you fell in love, Cas, but it’s ridiculous! Angels aren’t even capable of falling in love!”

Cas pressed two fingers into Dean’s chest, over his heart. His hot breath ghosted over Dean’s lips as he stood, motionless and eerily quiet, eyes like two dark galaxies staring directly into Dean.

“You have no idea how I feel, Dean Winchester,” Cas ground out through clenched teeth, low and dark, before he disappeared. The raw pain in his voice brought Dean back from the edge, finally realizing the words he had said through his fugue.

“Cas?” he whispered into the empty space before him. He bit his lip and hung his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he dug his fingernails into his palms. He felt so, so cold. He shivered as he felt a warm hand press gently on his back.

“Let’s get you something warm to drink,” Mary urged softly. He looked up and around. Sam wore his sympathetic, “you screwed up but I’ll help you if I can” look, and Sophie just looked angry. They both pulled on the sweaters they had pulled off during the encounter, when the room was sweltering. Sam wrapped an arm around her. Mary wrapped a blanket around him and started walking him toward the kitchen. He stopped and shrugged out of her grasp.

“No,” he rasped. “No, just… don’t.” He let the blanket fall to the floor as he padded his way to his bedroom. At his door, he sighed, resigned, as Carwyn stood there waiting for him, the same open, accepting look on her face.

“My invitation is still open, Dean,” she said. He gave her a tired, puzzled look. She cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. It was so much like Cas it hurt. “My invitation at Thanksgiving.”

He shook his head.

“I know you think you don’t deserve it. Where has that gotten you in your life?”

He looked at her feet, unable to make eye contact.

“You are still holding on to your raft of distrust and self-doubt, and _you are sinking_. Love is life, Dean. Love is freedom.” She paused, raising his chin with two fingers until he looked her in the eyes, then continued, “It’s interesting…. Your Castiel could not have really fallen in love so deeply this time if he had not learned freedom, and he learned freedom from you. He learned choices from you. And you learned them from him. Someday, hopefully soon, you’ll know what I mean.” Confusion swept over Dean’s face, but she continued without further explanation, “You have choices, Dean. When you choose love over doubt, over fear, over rejection, call me. Your Castiel cannot – he will not – do this without you.”

He turned away from her. “I said… just… he’s not going to want anything to do with me. I blew it. I’m a selfish ass.” He licked his lips nervously and bit the inside of his cheek to rein in his emotions.

“You are wrong, Dean Winchester,” she declared firmly. “He wants you in his life. He wants you to be selfish, remember? Or self-considerate, I believe he calls it. And he already knows you can be an ass.” She quirked up one side of her mouth in a smile, and Dean smiled despite himself. “Call me,” she said before disappearing, the warm breeze swirling around him.

Dean shuffled into his room and clicked the door closed behind him. He stripped off his clothes and flopped onto the bed, face-down. The note on his bed fluttered up briefly before resting on his outstretched arm. Dean sat up and grabbed it quickly.

_I am hurt, but I have already forgiven you. I’m not sure when, but I will come back - if I am able._

Dean’s face crumbled as he held the note.

_Asshole._

_I am a fucking asshole._

__________________

Movie referenced in this chapter:

_Star Wars_ , Lucasfilm Ltd.

 


	26. Training Day

Fourteen days, twenty hours.

The first week, Dean stuck to his room, only leaving it when he needed to eat (very little) or use the bathroom (as little as possible). He stared at the walls, at the ceiling, at the floor. He was angry. Indignant. Righteous. Guilty. Sad. Heartbroken. Sorry.

The first week, Dean composed and erased text messages: _You’re still wrong. You’re not wrong. I was wrong. Quit being an ass, you big baby. I’m being an ass. Are you okay? I’m not going to apologize. I’m sorry._

_I wish…_ Dean never finished that one.

Sam tried and failed to break Dean out of his funk. Mary tried and failed to break Dean out of his funk. They texted him, called him, spoke to him through the door, slipped notes under the door, tried the locked door. Sophie never tried to break Dean out of his funk.

The second week, Dean was bearded and pale. His t-shirt and jeans were wrinkled from a week of wear. He marveled at how exhausted he could be by doing nothing each day.

Dean spent one or two days – they all blended, really – looking up Cas’ vlogs and YouTube videos. He let Cas’ earnest words and actions and his face and his presence wash over him along with the ever-present guilt. He watched other videos that showed the impact his words and actions were having. He looked up the #liveyourlove hashtag and read the stories, watched how others expressed their love so easily, how he inspired them. An angel started all this. _As if an angel couldn’t fall in love. I’m such an idiot. Maybe I was projecting. Maybe I’m the one who can’t fall in love. Yeah, that sounds about right._

On the third day of the second week, Dean opened his phone to his music and searched his playlists. He stopped on the playlists Sophie made for them, which he’d barely acknowledged before. Dean plugged in his earbuds and inserted them into his ears, then thumbed the playlist and hit shuffle. And for the rest of the week, he listened to the joy and heartbreak of love on repeat.

After fourteen days and eighteen hours of wallowing, his door burst open and clothes landed hard in his face.

“Take a shower and get dressed, then meet me in the living room. I’m not talking to you while you reek.” Sophie slammed the door shut behind her.

Stunned, Dean did as he was told. When he met her in the living room, her eyes were on fire, and she was as angry as he’d ever seen her. Sam was hiding in the corner, clearly not wanting to get involved. He briefly entertained whether Sam would find wherever Sophie hid his body. He stood several feet away.

“What?” he mumbled.

“Enough of your damn pity party. Stop being a jerk and try for once.”

“Try what?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “You know, you’re not stupid. You’re just acting that way.”

He stared at her.

“Dean. Do you really think Cas is some sort of emotionless automaton?”

“Of course not,” he muttered.

“Do you really think his work is worthless? That it’s not doing any good?”

“No.”

“Do you really think I’m his light-mate?”

His eyes shot up to look at her. “No…”

“But you did. Because you can’t imagine who else it could be. Despite everything.”

Dean stayed silent and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Hey Sam,” she said as she turned to him, “what’s a six letter word for the state Dean lives in?”

Sam knew it was a trap, but he couldn’t figure it out. “Uh, Kansas?”

“Denial,” she said as she turned back to Dean and folded her arms. “All he’s ever done, he’s done for you, Dean. How could you say those things to him?”

“Because I’m an idiot, alright?”

“That’s the thing, Dean! You’re not! But you never think beyond survival. You never think of actually _living_ as opposed to just existing!” He was silent, so she continued, “Do you really think Carwyn is just out to get you?”

“I don’t trust…”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t trust her. Shocker. Let’s substitute the word _love_ for _Carwyn_ , shall we? You don’t trust _love_. You think _love_ is out to get you. You’re suspicious of _love_. You doubt _love_. Seeing any patterns here? Get where I’m going?”

It hit too close to home, and Dean needed to escape. “I don’t need this. This isn’t your business,” he growled as he started to turn away.

She stepped into his space and, though she was several inches shorter, she seemed to loom over him. Intimidatingly, she hissed, “Let’s expand the word game a little more, huh? Substitute _Cas_ for _love_. You don’t trust _Cas_. You think _Cas_ is out to get you. You’re suspicious of _Cas_. You doubt _Cas_. How does that feel?”

“That’s not true,” Dean raised his voice defensively.

“It may not be true, Dean, but that’s what it looks like to him. Look, what you do with your life is your business. If you want to throw it away, have at it. But it breaks my heart to see you do that to yourself. And it breaks my heart even more to see Cas hurting.” Dean swallowed and looked away. She pulled his face back to look at her. “Cas is one of my best friends. You’re going to be my brother-in-law. And I love both of you. Do the right thing, Dean. But don’t fuck with his emotions again, or you’ll be dealing with me. And you haven’t begun to see me pissed off yet.” She turned on her heel and stomped away, but turned around before she left the room and said, “You don’t have to believe in love, Dean. But you should believe in Cas.” The bedroom door slammed seconds later.

Sam caught Dean’s eyes briefly before Dean turned, grabbed his jacket and keys, and said, “I gotta go.”

Dean drove with no location in mind, but it was no surprise he found himself at their lake. Cas had called it _their lake_. He pulled out the overpriced six-pack he bought at the tiny store on his way out there and opened his door.

It was a clear, cold night. The snow that must have fallen sometime over the last two weeks was mostly gone, but patches clung to the frozen ground. He sat on Baby’s hood and pulled out his phone, setting it to the playlist he’d had on repeat for the past several days. He skipped all the upbeat songs in favor of the songs of loss, of longing, of regret. Thoughts assaulted him, the rapid-fire bullets piercing his soul.

_You never think of actually living as opposed to just existing!_

_I want to live not just survive._

_It’s okay to want ordinary things, Dean. Even if you haven’t had an ordinary existence._

_Do you ever want something ordinary, Cas?_

Dean twisted the cap of the beer bottle.

_We are acquainted, but you don’t want to know me. You are afraid to know me._

_You don’t trust love._

_It’s okay to want to love someone fiercely and completely and have them love you fiercely and completely in return._

Dean struggled to slow his breathing.

_I love the things you hate about yourself._

_I have already forgiven you._

He bit his lip to stop the shaking.

_It is terrifying and exhausting and frightening. It is exhilarating and joyful and transcendent. It is dirty, gut-wrenching, passionate, and profound. It’s love, my dear._

He clenched the bottle in his hand as his rapid breaths clouded his face in a crystallized fog.

_I’m trying to maintain a clear mind, Dean. I’m trying to be true to this process and feel what I’m supposed to feel._

_This is uncomfortable for me as well, but I need you._

_Your doubt will be your Castiel’s downfall._

“Fuck!” Dean howled as he jumped off the car and hurled the bottle in his hands at the nearest tree. “Damn it!” he screamed repeatedly as another bottle flew, then a third, fourth, fifth, sixth. He stamped around the packed sand, cursing until he collapsed to his knees and wailed soundlessly.

Castiel and Carwyn watched from a copse of trees nearby.

“I have to go to him,” Castiel pleaded with her. She refused.

“He’s in pain, Carwyn, I have to…”

She looked at him sharply and cut him off. “ _No_ , Castiel. Rescuing him from his pain is not love. Don’t rescue those who are not in danger. Trust him to work it out.” He looked at her, resigned, and she dismissed him with a flick of her wrist.

After a few moments, Dean slowly raised himself to his feet and shuffled to his car. He lay on the hood and breathed rough, hiccupped breaths as he gazed through swollen eyes at the sky. Time passed slowly and too quickly. The songs playing from his phone taunted him, each one voicing his thoughts –

_How can I just let you walk away? Just let you leave without a trace?_

and

You were a comet, and I lost it

and

_Did I say that I need you? Did I say that I want you? Oh if I didn’t I’m a fool you see, no one knows this more than me_

– and Dean threw his phone far away as the pain threatened to swallow him whole.

In the silence of the chilly night, Dean whispered, “I surrender.”

_No_.

He swallowed and spoke again to the stars. “Carwyn. I… you gotta understand that I… I’m just gonna screw this up, probably. I don’t trust easily, and love has never really been… it’s always been conditional, you know? Until… I don’t know, but I’ll try.” He closed his eyes against the burning of hot, huge tears.

The air shifted around him, and he opened his eyes to a dusty, disorganized garage. _How the hell did I get here?_ Dean stood in an oily spot on the floor and looked around. He bounced nervously from foot to foot as he wondered what to do next.

“You chose to be here. Welcome, Dean,” Carwyn greeted him over his shoulder. He turned to face her. Deep, shining eyes searched his face. She grasped his forearm with her hand, the sleeve of the soft, fluffy gold sweater she wore brushing against his too-warm skin.

“Where am I?” he managed to ask.

“Your unconscious mind,” she answered.

“My unconscious mind is a dirty garage?” He looked at her skeptically, then frowned and said, “Well, yeah, that probably makes sense.” He walked over to a hideous orange cracked vinyl couch and slumped into it. He folded his arms and looked up at Carwyn. “Everyone else said their places were someplace special or comforting.”

“Yes, but you’re not in your training space yet,” she reminded him.

“So why am I in my unconscious?” Dean remembered the gray room that he’d been in. He thought it was Cas’ unconscious. It was much neater than his. He wasn’t surprised.

“You’re here because you have a little prep work to do before you meet with your Castiel again.” He perked up at the idea of being reunited with Cas, then quickly realized he had no idea what this prep work was. He narrowed his eyes at her and waited.

“You are emotionally constipated, Dean.” She loomed over him, snapping on white latex gloves. He noticed she now wore a white lab coat and wondered how the hell she’d done that. She bent down and hovered, inches from his face, and said, “And I’m your enema.”

He blanched. She winked.

“It’s nothing that dramatic, Dean,” she laughed. She was back in her sweater and simple black dress pants, gloves absent from her delicate hands. “I just wanted to shake you up a little.”

“Mission accomplished,” he rasped, but laughed a little uncertainly in spite of himself.

“What this will really be is an opportunity for you to process all of the things that have happened to you this lifetime, so that you can let them go. Your life energy stays trapped in them when you hang on to them too tightly. When you are no longer ruled by these memories – when they can flow through you rather than ensnare you – you will be free to choose your path. Understand?”

He nodded.

“Lay back.”

He did as he was told. She placed a warm hand on the crown of his head and one between his heart and his neck. _The heart and the throat chakras. Love and communication. Super._

“I will not be erasing your memories. I will be entering your soul to help you process your memories and emotions. You will feel heat and movement. Do you give me permission to do so?”

_Now or never. Sink or swim. Trust._ “Yes.”

Immediately, his body relaxed as he fell into a sleeplike, yet conscious state. Memories flashed before him and the movie was strange, disjointed. He felt every emotion as if he were reliving the moments. Fear. Heartache. Obligation. Loss. Loneliness. Despair. Betrayal. Pain. Grief. So much grief. Carwyn said little, but murmured occasional questions, encouragements, or direction. His eyes moved rapidly, and he panted like he’d been sprinting for miles. His body tensed and relaxed as every scene was relived, then released.

Dean had no idea how much time had passed when he finally opened his eyes. The air he breathed was clean and refreshing, and he inhaled greedily as he came into awareness. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly. He was still in the garage, but it was nothing like it was when he’d arrived. It was spotless and organized, everything in its place.

“How are you?” Carwyn asked. She was seated in a small rolling desk chair.

“Good,” he said as he shook his head. “Um, lighter, I guess.” She was dressed like Cas again – long, bronze leather coat, white shirt, dark pants, blue necklace. He missed Cas.

“Well, it won’t be the solution to all of the problems you’ll ever have in your life,” she warned, “but it’ll give you a fighting chance.” He nodded.

“So, uh….”

She smiled indulgently. “Would you like to see your Castiel?”

He still couldn’t figure out why she called him that, but he smiled and nodded his head anyway. She touched his shoulder.

He found himself outside a barn in Pontiac, Illinois, standing next to his Impala. He looked around apprehensively.

Answering his unspoken thought, she said, “This is your Castiel’s training studio. No one else has come here first, but I thought it would be important for you to see what he’s doing before the two of you work together.” She guided him forward with a gentle hand on his back.

The barn pulsed with loud, driving sound. He recognized the song immediately, and his few memories of high school came flooding back.

Dean snickered. “ _Sabotage_? He works out to the Beastie Boys?”

“Among other things. He enjoys loud music when he’s training,” she shrugged as they entered and she pointed, directing his attention across the barn.

The view was nothing short of breathtaking. Cas stood in an easy fighting stance in the middle of the floor, hands up but loose and bare feet shoulder width apart, in his ripped jeans, a faded black t-shirt, and a plaid shirt Dean swore was from his own closet. Monsters from anyone’s worst nightmares flew toward him, and he flicked them aside like flies, light bursting from his hands. Between attacks he breathed meditatively, preparing for the next onslaught. His hands glowed as he held creatures large and small, fates decided with pulses of energy. Dean’s mouth dried up and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Castiel,” Carwyn called as the monsters fell away to nothing. Cas turned, and his blue eyes widened before he broke into a cautious smile. He walked toward Dean slowly, wrecked hair catching in the warm breeze that swirled through the training arena. Any fear that Cas would reject him faded as, without hesitation, Cas pulled Dean into a bone-crushing hug. Dean returned it shyly, ashamed of their last interaction and afraid to lose what little hold of himself he had.

“Hey Cas,” he croaked into Castiel’s shoulder.

“Hello Dean,” Cas said as he squeezed him tighter before releasing him.

When they separated, they were in the backyard of a small house. The yard was well-cared for, a large expanse of lush green. A small swing set sat in one corner near a towering old oak. A path of slate stepping stones led to flower and vegetable gardens in another corner. An outbuilding was perched toward the edge of the property. Dean and Cas looked at each other questioningly, then shrugged. Neither of them recognized the place, nor did they understand why they were brought there. Carwyn offered no explanation.

“So, the two of you will need to find the most comfortable, meaningful way to connect yourselves to each other.” Dean raised his eyebrows at Cas.

“We have to ground ourselves to each other in some way, Dean. Like, holding hands or embracing or something.” Cas shifted on his feet and closed his eyes to ward off his embarrassment.

“Ohh-kayyyy…” Dean said. He took Castiel’s left hand in his right. The ring brushed across his fingers. They both swallowed and closed their eyes.

“Hmm. Sure that’s quite the way you want to go?” Carwyn asked. They nodded.

“Okay, then. Dean, please meditate upon your relationship with your Castiel. As you do so, your energy will flow to him.”

Dean tried to think about their relationship, but his mind kept coming back to their disagreement.

“Dean, let go. Breathe and allow your feelings to flow through you into him. With every inhalation, feel the emotions and words you associate with him. With every exhalation, send them to him.”

As Dean focused, a cool, unpleasant sensation shot through their hands. They both jumped back and frowned. He tried again, with the same result.

Carwyn hummed, “Hmm.” She looked at both of them, lips pursed, and waited. Minutes ticked by, with no movement or direction from her.

Dean, frustrated, pulled Castiel by the hand he was holding toward the gardens. He sighed heavily. “Cas. I’m sorry.”

“Dean, I know, and I already…”

“I know you did, but I gotta say this, alright? What you’re doing does matter. You’re helping people and angels. You’re bringing good energy to this God-forsaken planet. It’s just… I was so pissed, feeling so left out and I just haven’t trusted this whole process because I’ve never had a good reason to trust love before, you know? It usually bites me in the ass. And… when I said that angels can’t fall in love, I… I was just wrong. At least about you. That was just me being pissed and hurt and scared. So, I’m sorry.”

Dean shifted his body toward the gardens, and Cas moved with him. He pulled his hand away from Dean’s to tilt Dean’s face toward him. His skin burned under Cas’ fingers. “What are you afraid of?” he asked gently.

He frowned. “Just… being hurt, I guess.” _Being without you._

Cas gave him his reserved-for-Dean smile. “I have learned that caring for others involves a lot of emotions, and that sometimes intentions are misconstrued by others. I’ll never intentionally hurt you, Dean, but I can’t promise you’ll never hurt or that I’ll never be the cause. I just hope you’ll forgive me when I am. I… will always be there to work it out with you.”

“Okay, Cas,” Dean said awkwardly as he pulled him into a brief hug and a pat on the back, “okay.”

They returned to Carwyn. Warmth curled around their bodies as they stood before her. She smiled as she instructed them to once again find their meaningful way to connect.

This time, they simply stood facing each other, not touching, green and blue eyes locked as they had countless times. They spoke to each other in the space between meadow and sky. _Ready? Yes._

The air sizzled as they focused on their breathing and sensed the heat dancing through their connection. Their shared history flowed between them and illuminated their life energies, and it was not merely a passing of energy from soul to grace and back, but a fusing of energy until soul and grace existed as one greater whole. _Vulnerability, protection, sacrifice_ pulsated through the bond as a spark of light began to grow between them. _Devotion, faith, trust_ grew the light into a ball of flame. Their eyes, unmoving, reflected the flame as they unknowingly inched closer. _Deep, unshakable, profound_ fanned the flame into an inferno of molten energy as they clasped hands unconsciously, breathing the same air and pressing into each other to steady themselves against the fiery gale. Dean heard the vigorous flapping of Cas’ wings as their energies screamed _need, want, wish, more…._

Castiel and Dean broke the connection, gasping for breath, the fronts of both beings’ t-shirts soaked with Dean’s sweat. They stayed quiet for several minutes. As Dean reflected on what happened ( _what the hell just happened?_ ), he remembered something and he started to giggle. Cas and Carwyn looked at him curiously. Dean, looking up at Castiel’s confused yet amused expression from his crouched position on the grass, said breathlessly, with a wink, “Made you flutter, angel.” Cas pretended to scoff as he rolled his eyes and folded his arms, but he couldn’t maintain his false indifference and he started laughing giddily, which sent Dean into raucous laughter as well. Carwyn, flushed from their energy, watched them fondly until their laughter slowed down.

“Come, my darlings,” she smiled, taking them back to the barn. She brought them onto the training floor and, without warning, swatted her hand in the air, opening several portals at once. Creatures of all sorts – werewolves, Leviathan, ghouls, banshees – poured out of the walls and ran toward Dean and Carwyn. Mirth forgotten, Castiel quickly fired globes of protective light from his hands toward both Dean and Carwyn, which poured down and around them before the first creature ever had a chance. Dean watched, fascinated, as the creatures were stymied in their attempts to harm him. His fascination turned to terror as the creatures turned toward Cas. He spun light in an arc around himself, creating a barrier that the creatures broke through quickly but through which they met their redemption or elimination just thereafter. Dean gaped at the sight of the peculiar game of Red Rover happening in front of him. And almost as quickly as they arrived, the portals were closed and the creatures vanished.

Dean couldn’t help but be impressed, and he was ( _turned on? No, stop thinking that_ ) intrigued by the sheer power radiating from his best friend, a power that seemed extraordinary even for an angel. He seemed even more powerful than he had been in the woods when he faced the insane angel posse. Had Dean’s willingness to come here, to “clean up his garage,” so to speak, really helped Cas that much? It was humbling, and it filled him with feelings he wasn’t sure he could bear to explore. Not when he had to help Cas with his whole light-mate situation.

Before he could think too hard about it, he saw familiar faces walk through another portal. _Raphael. Uriel. Balthazar. Anna. What the hell? I thought they were dead._ He looked at Carwyn, who told him (without speaking) that angels who die come to one of her dimensions. _Huh. Solves that mystery._ The apparently alive-in-this-dimension angels began to attack Castiel, but the sparring, Dean noticed, was different. Cas wasn’t trying to determine whether they lived or died. He was trying to…negotiate?

Carwyn’s explanation sounded in his head. _Part of his training is to determine whether the angels before him are not only friend or foe, but also if they are really a threat. It’s the same with all of the creatures he’s encountered, but the angels have more power and…well, there’s more history with angels, let’s say._ He nodded as he watched what would happen next. Castiel was fending them off, but not actively doing anything to determine their fate one way or another.

More angels poured in as Cas engaged with the four in front of him. Some of them, he noticed, were clones of the four he was already confronting. _Okay, that’s some freaky shit._ One came running toward Dean. Uriel. The blade the angel held aloft split through the shield around him. Having no weapons, he readied himself to fight, despite how utterly mismatched they were. He lifted his hands to keep the blade from making contact. As they wrestled, Dean realized he was fighting a losing battle. He squeezed his eyes shut as he gave one last push on Uriel’s arms before the blade fell into his chest. Or rather, onto his chest. The force under his hands was gone, replaced with nearly weightless ashes. _Son of a bitch._ Dean looked up to see Castiel alone in the middle of the arena floor, breathing heavily, watching him. He released Carwyn’s shield as he walked toward them, a small smile playing on his lips. Carwyn and Dean met him halfway.

“Dude,” Dean said, “that was amazing, man.” He raised his hand and Cas slapped it, now that he understood the high five sign better.

Shyly, Cas acknowledged his compliment and said, “I wasn’t strong enough to spar with so many angels before, so thank you, Dean. You really helped me. As usual.” The two smiled at each other before looking at the floor.

“Yes, that was very impressive work, Castiel.” She leaned in toward them and placed her hands on their shoulders as she whispered, “Imagine what he could’ve done if you’d both _really_ opened up in your training.” She patted Dean on the back as she sent him back to the bunker.

Bewildered, Dean looked around the kitchen, where he landed when Carwyn sent him back. He looked at the clock – 2:23 a.m. He felt a happy kind of exhaustion overtake him as he headed toward his room, where he found the note from Cas:

_Dear Dean – Thank you. For all that you do, all that you are, and all that we’ve shared. You are my family. I’ll see you in the morning. With love, Cas_

_With love._ It wasn’t the first time he’d said it to them, but it was the first time he wasn’t dying when he said it.

_Dork_. Dean smiled as he fell into the deepest sleep he’d had in a long while.

***

“It’s not enough, is it?” Castiel asked Carwyn sadly.

“No, it isn’t,” Carwyn agreed.

“The time is short.”

“Yes. What will you do?”

Castiel sighed. “I don’t know.”

__________________

Songs referenced in this chapter:

_Against All Odds_ by Phil Collins

_Watching for Comets_ by Skillet

_Just Breathe_ by Pearl Jam

_Sabotage_ by Beastie Boys

 


	27. Dive In

Dean woke to the smell of pancakes. Still floating on the buzz of last night’s interaction with Cas, he hummed a nameless tune as he strolled into the kitchen and started the coffee for everyone. Wedding paraphernalia was, once again, spread across the table, and sappy music played from Sophie’s phone. She sang to Sam as he flipped the cakes in the pan. Noticing Dean, she turned to look at him.

“Everything good?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

He busied himself with grabbing mugs from the cabinet. “Yeah, I think,” he tried to say casually. The smile in his voice gave him away.

“Aww, you guys kissed and made up,” she joked.

Dean blushed. “We did not kiss…” he protested indignantly.

“Shocker.”

“…but I did get to train with him.”

Sophie jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “Ooh, how was it? Was it amazing? It was amazing, right? Tell me everything!”

Dean placed the mugs of coffee on the table while she placed a large platter of pancakes between them. He had just started telling them about the angels when Cas arrived, holding… a gift-wrapped package?

“Aww, a gift for me? It’s not Christmas yet, Cas,” Dean joked.

Castiel scowled affectionately at him. “It’s not for you,” he said needlessly. “I’ve never participated in celebrating your Christmas tradition. This is for Sam and Sophie.” He placed the gift on the table in front of them.

Sam stood behind Sophie as she opened it. “A bottle of wine,” Sam remarked as Sophie pulled off the tissue paper. “What’s the occasion?”

“I’m told it is customary to give a gift when a couple is going to engage in a human marriage ceremony,” he replied simply. “It is wine made from the grapes of one of Carwyn’s gardens.” He paused. “Was it correct to give you a gift?”

“Well, yeah, but we aren’t getting married for several months. Usually you wait until the wedding day, sweetie,” Sophie said as she patted his hand. His face fell.

“I wanted to give it to you now, so perhaps we could share a glass together,” he said quietly.

“Wine at breakfast? I’m game,” Sam joked as he popped the cork. Castiel’s smile returned as Sam poured each of them a glass. They toasted the bride and groom. Murmurs of praise circled around the table.

“You are so impatient,” Sophie teased. “You couldn’t wait? We could’ve had this before the ceremony and all gone in drunk off our asses.”

Castiel grew quiet again as he said, “I…just wanted to make sure I could give this to you. I’m… not sure I’ll be able to attend your wedding.”

Everyone paused.

“What the hell do you mean?” Sophie asked in a barely audible, shaky voice.

“The time is close,” he spoke as he looked down at his glass. “If I don’t make it…”

“Oh no. Oh _hell_ no.” Sophie started to tremble. Sam kneaded her shoulders as Dean watched Cas silently, finding that words were inadequate to describe the tornados that statement caused in his chest and head.

“Sophie, we have to be realistic…”

She pointed a shaky finger at him. “There is no way in Heaven or Hell that you are missing my wedding, do you hear me?”

“We do not have months to wait. Chaos, pain, fear are erupting left and right, you are all in danger…”

“Well too bad! No! You are _not missing my wedding_!” She flung herself into his arms as she burst into tears. He held her tightly as he patted her back.

Sam caught his eyes. “How much time?” he asked softly.

Cas shook his head minutely. “Probably just a couple of weeks, if that. I need to act soon. Things are… intense.” He didn’t bother to tell them about the increase in activity around the world, and specifically, his own unpleasant encounters with multiple beings. So far, he’d been able to defeat what he’d faced. He wasn’t sure how long his luck would hold out.

Sophie raised her head from Cas’ chest and turned toward Sam with pleading eyes. He nodded. She said to Castiel, “How about this Saturday? Can you wait until after Saturday?”

Cas looked confused, until he understood the insinuation of her question. “Sophie, you’ve worked so hard…”

She shook her head and sniffled. “Doesn’t matter. How could I start my new life without you there to celebrate with me? You’re family. Besides, you’re my Man of Honor.” She smiled at his confused expression and patted his chest.

“Man of Honor?”

“Or, Angel of Honor, I guess, whatever. I want you to stand up there with me when I marry that beautiful, amazing man over there. Please?”

“Of course, Sophie,” he said, though he still looked perplexed.

Relief melted into her body. “Good! Thank you!” She shifted into action mode. “Okay, we need to go to Hastings or Kearney to rent tuxes. You guys need to go for a fitting. They should be open by the time we get there. Thank God I already have my dress. We have to get the marriage license. I’ll call around to see where we can have the ceremony and reception. Maybe Kelly can help. We can grab some flowers from the grocery store that morning, and… what else? Food! Yes! Okay, I need to call Kelly. Get dressed, you guys.” Sophie picked up her phone and rushed away, excited and breathless.

Two hours later, the bride, groom, and wedding party found themselves at a wedding attire store in Kearney. The drive up had been busy for Sam and Sophie, who made phone calls and arrangements, and quiet for Dean and Cas, who were both thinking about the reason why all of this activity was happening in the first place. As they quartet bustled into the store, two women and two men turned their eyes to the door and nearly stumbled over themselves to assist them.

“I need to have a final fitting of my dress, please,” Sophie said as she took charge, “and these three need tuxes.” The men were ushered to the tuxedo rental section of the store as Sophie walked alone toward the dress fitting area, where she was told someone would assist her.

“I hate monkey suits,” Dean muttered as he was measured. Sam was being measured right next to him. Cas was across from them. He had two employees assisting him.

“You look more like a penguin than a monkey,” Sam snarked. Cas smiled.

“You both look very nice,” Cas said sincerely to Dean and Sam. “Your souls are burning very brightly.”

Dean heard a gasp and a “You’re so sweet!” behind Cas and he looked toward him to see two employees fawning over him, taking their time as they measured and touching him more than was strictly necessary. He heard them asking him questions about his relationship to the engaged couple (“we are family”), what he did for a living (“I am a… motivational speaker” and Dean laughed), and whether the rings he wore meant he was married (“I have not yet engaged in that custom, though I am not opposed if my beloved is willing” which made Dean’s throat swell and he had to look away). Dean heard the woman and man tell Cas how lucky his partner was and that they hoped to find someone just like him someday.

Dean sighed. _We should all be so lucky._

Cas was called away to attend to Sophie, and when he returned he was beaming, which only made him more attractive to _everyone in the damn store, for crying out loud._ Dean wanted to jump out of his skin (or at least the monkey/penguin suit) and rescue Cas from their prying eyes and drooling mouths. Sam, who was standing next to Cas now, wasn’t doing a damn thing about it. Castiel seemed oblivious to his effect on the four employees and five customers surrounding him. He was too busy talking to them about... something. Dean couldn’t make it all out. He heard something about the wedding and something about being unrequited. Cas always worked in the big words. Whatever he was talking about, they hung on to every word. Maybe he’d ask Sam later.

One of the employees made her way back to Dean after he changed out of the tux (Cas hadn’t yet because, well, no one was leaving him alone) and patted his arm. She was a kind-looking woman, with brown eyes and soft, wrinkled hands.

“He loves you very much,” she commented.

Dean looked at her with confusion. “Who? My brother?” He gestured toward Sam. “He has to. It’s part of the deal.” He smiled and tried to be charming.

“No, that young man there, the dark-haired one with the all the fans,” she smiled, pointing at Cas.

Dean dropped his charming act as he rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “Ah, no, he’s not talking about me.”

She appraised him carefully. “Really? I have to disagree,” she said. “I saw how he looked at you.”

_I saw how he looked at you._

“Are you okay?” she asked. He turned back to her. “You went away for a second there.” He nodded sheepishly.

“I’d, uh, better rescue him,” Dean responded, and they laughed briefly before Dean walked toward the crowd.

“Ready to go, Cas? Well, after you change, I mean,” he winked as he put his hand around Cas’ arm. “Excuse us, everyone. The wedding party has things to do.” Dean smiled as he saw the pouts of the crowd. Castiel, still unaware, began telling Dean about how beautiful the souls around him were and how beautiful Sophie’s soul had been when she wore her dress and how glad he was to be a part of it all. Dean listened happily as Castiel went on and on, even keeping himself from laughing at the stares of the crowd as Cas divested himself of his dress shirt in the middle of the store, instead placing himself between them to give Cas his privacy and, yes, because he was a little immature. He managed to refrain from sticking his tongue out at them.

The next few days were a flurry of activity. Sophie decided to take the week off, since she had plenty of vacation time and their honeymoon would still be happening a few months from now, since the tickets were already booked. Dean didn’t see much of Cas, between his assisting Sophie and Sam and his own training. It bothered him, because he knew he didn’t have much time left, if Cas’ dire prediction was anything to go by. _A couple of weeks._ He wasn’t ready. He just wasn’t ready. And Cas would never tell him what they were all going to be doing to fight these evil sons of bitches.

It was his restlessness about Cas that woke him in the wee hours of Friday morning. He left his room to grab some water or maybe a beer and to clear his head. As he rounded the corner, there was Cas, wearing green flannel pajama pants, a long-sleeved gray t-shirt, and a scowl, and his heart stuttered a little as he realized what he was doing.

Cas had Sam’s laptop open on the table, and he was watching the screen carefully. A small yet bossy voice was counting and Cas was trying to follow along. He had one arm out and curved away from his body, waist-level, and the other bent at the elbow and standing up – he was trying to dance with an invisible partner. He was focused intently on his movements, so much so that he didn’t notice Dean. Dean leaned against the wall for a moment and watched him before deciding to say, “Cas.”

Castiel startled. “Dean! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“You didn’t, man,” he said softly. “What are you doing?”

“I am trying to learn how to dance,” he said as he stared at the laptop as if it had offended him. “But it is very difficult.”

“Well, yeah, it’s a lot harder when you don’t have someone to teach you. It’s kind of a hands-on activity. Why are you trying to learn?”

“I hear it’s customary to dance at weddings, and Sophie expressed an interest in dancing with me. But as you saw when we went out, I’m not very skilled.”

He shrugged. “Eh, your singing makes up for it.”

“That won’t help me on Saturday, Dean.”

Dean sighed as he made a decision. He stepped into Castiel’s space and placed his hands up. “Not a word of this to anyone,” he grumbled as the angel nodded and stepped forward. Dean was nervous being so close to Cas, in their pajamas, in the dark, moving intimately as the greenhouse-and-rain-and-Dean’s-pomade smell of _Cas_ floated into Dean’s nose. But Castiel smiled as Dean led him through the steps, only stepping on his feet a couple of times, and it eased his nerves. Dean was a patient teacher, and before long he forgot about everything and they were laughing and moving somewhat comfortably. When Dean was satisfied with Cas’ progress, he said, “Okay, now let’s add music.” He stepped away from him and clicked to the next song in Cas’ playlist. Heavy guitar riffs ripped through the space as Dean scrambled to change the song. “Wrong playlist,” he muttered as he switched from _Training_ to _Love_. This time, the song with the decidedly not-romantic title started, the one Sophie had told him about when they first started this business.

_It’s about being scared to get into a real, deep love with someone, but having to take a risk and dive in to find it._ Dean was sure there was no reason he chose that song other than it was one of the first ones he saw on the screen.

They started quietly and a bit nervously, focused on coordinating their moments. Soon, the movements became easy and they relaxed a bit into each other and had a little fun. Cas started singing under his breath, and chuckled in surprise when Dean joined in, loudly and off-key on purpose:

_So here we go, head first, no regrets_

_And no rules, we can stay as long as we want_

_Slow dancing in the darkness_

_And all I know is I wanna be here with you from now on_

“I thought you didn’t like to sing,” Cas remarked with a sly smile.

“Never said that, exactly,” he replied as he twirled Cas around unexpectedly. Cas nearly stumbled but kept his footing, and a moment later he did the same to Dean. Dean took it as a challenge, and soon the pair were turning and stepping overdramatically around the kitchen as the song hit its fastest tempo toward the end with the final chorus. When it ended, Dean looked at Cas, who smiled his Dean-smile and looked at him with gratitude and fondness and something else Dean couldn’t place but which made him squirm. He backed off quickly, not wanting to read any more into it ( _we’re just friends, I was helping him out_ ), but not before he committed the look in those blue eyes to memory.

“Not a word,” he warned again with a pointed finger before he turned and hurried away, leaving Castiel confused and wistful.

__________________

Song referenced in this chapter:

_Aquaman_ by Walk the Moon


	28. Penguins and Profound Bonds

Sam rose with the sun on Saturday and pondered whether he should go for a run, despite the cold December day. Running always made him feel better. His burning muscles took the edge off his burning mind. Right now, his mind was not on his wedding day, not on his bride, but on his brother. As he walked into the kitchen, grabbing his arm across his chest to stretch his shoulder, he spotted Dean at the table, staring into his coffee. _So much for running_. He cleared his throat. Dean grunted a greeting as Sam poured a glass of juice and sat down across from his brother.

“So. Your wedding day. How’s it feel, man?” Dean asked.

He smiled. “Pretty freakin’ awesome, actually. I never thought I’d do this, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.” He looked up at Sam and smiled. “Not too many people do in our line of work, Sammy. I’m happy for you. You found a good one.” Sam nodded his agreement. “You nervous?”

“Nah. I know she’s amazing. Only thing I’m nervous about is getting left at the altar.”

“If she hasn’t smartened up yet, she probably won’t,” Dean joked. Sam slugged him in the arm, then grew serious. “How are you doing, Dean?”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Fine, Sam. I’m fine.”

“Yeah. That’s why you’re out here at 4:30 a.m., right?”

“You are, too.”

“I’m getting married. What’s your excuse?”

“You’re getting married.”

“Bullshit.”

Dean stared at his untouched coffee.

“Things won’t change, Dean. I’m still going to hunt. We’re still going to live here. The rent is cheap.” Sam smiled at his brother.

Dean scoffed as he finally took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, that’s the thing, Sammy. Things _should_ change, man. You should be starting your life with your wife. You should be moving into your first place together, arguing over paint colors and where to store the three blenders you’ll get today. You should be having wild newlywed sex in every room of the house. You should have a chance at a normal life. An ordinary life, man.”

Sam ran a finger around the rim of his glass. “Hey, we can have sex in every room of the bunker.”

Dean made a face. “Dude, not while I’m home, alright?” Sam chuckled.

After a beat, Sam said, “Dean, we just don’t want you to be alone right now. Not with all this other stuff with Cas up in the air.”

Dean shifted in his seat and lowered his eyes. “I’m fine. I don’t need to be babysat. As for Cas, the idiot’s either gonna die doing this foolish mission to fulfill his ‘destiny’ or he’s gonna live and go riding off into the sunset with the love of his life. Same end result for me.” He clenched his jaw and gripped his mug tightly.

Sam sighed. “Dean. Do you really think that?”

Dean scowled but kept his head lowered.

“Dean,” Sam said kindly, “You’re really going to let that happen? You have choices, too, man.”

By “let that happen” Dean wasn’t sure whether Sam meant “let Cas fight alone and die” or “let Cas run off with his lover” or even “be alone all his miserable life.” He didn’t answer right away, but finally said, “I want Cas to be happy for once. He thinks he’s in love with his light-mate. If he has a chance to be in love and be happy with her like you are with Sophie, then that’s what I want. There’s no other choice.”

“Him.”

Dean looked up in confusion. “Him what?”

“His light-mate. Him.”

Dean squinted as if it would help him understand better.

“His light-mate is a guy, Dean.”

Dean sat up straight, wiping his suddenly sweaty hands on his thighs. His stomach dipped to his feet. “How the hell do you know that? Do you know who it is? Have you been holding out on me?” The words tumbled out faster and more forcefully than he meant them to.

Sam held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No, no, he didn’t say who it is. Just… at the tux store, when he was talking to those people, he slipped up and said ‘he.’”

“Maybe it was a mistake.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t think it was. I mean, I don’t think he meant to reveal any clues about this light-mate – he had said he wanted to protect this person – but he didn’t take it back or try to cover it up or anything.”

“Yeah, but he never corrected me all those times I said ‘she’ or ‘her’ though,” Dean pointed out.

Sam shrugged. “Well, correcting you would’ve revealed the info, so either he didn’t want you to know or… I don’t know, it’s Cas.” Dean scowled to defend Cas against Sam’s jibe.

Sam, feeling slightly chastised, sighed and continued, “Sophie told me that he told her that his light-mate had been different genders in different lifetimes, so maybe he doesn’t really care about the physical gender of the human. Maybe souls don’t have genders, I don’t know. Angels don’t, I don’t think.”

Dean’s mind was firing in a hundred directions. Did this change anything? What did it all mean? This information shrunk the list of potential light-mates considerably, but he still didn’t know any guys that Cas would know that Dean wouldn’t. Still, obviously there was the very real possibility that Cas did, in fact, know people Dean didn’t. Had he met him before, though? What if he was someone they’d bumped into on a hunt together? Or, again, maybe it was someone he’d helped when he was off saving the world or whatever he did when he wasn’t around. Or maybe he was…

“Dean!”

Dean startled. “What?”

“You were a million miles away. You’re trying to figure out who it is, aren’t you?”

“No!...Yes.”

“Maybe you should just ask him.”

“He won’t tell us, remember?”

“Then maybe there’s a good reason why he won’t tell us.”

“How am I supposed to protect him if I don’t know? How am I supposed to help?”

“Maybe you’re not.”

“Bullshit.”

“You really have no clue, huh? Despite everything?”

This conversation was beginning to feel familiar. “No,” Dean spat petulantly.

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, hands placating again, “look, I’m sure Cas will say something when the time is right, alright? Trust his judgment on this one.”

Dean deflated. “Yeah, alright. It’s not the day to think about this anyway. But I’ll tell you one thing: If this guy hurts Cas, I’m gonna kick his ass.”

Sam smiled. “I’ll help you, Dean.”

***

Castiel stood next to Dean on the wooden dance floor at Star Struck, his head bumping the flower-strewn arch they’d rented from the party store two towns over. The late morning sun filtered through the high windows, and he mused about how right this place seemed for the wedding/reception, despite its unconventional nature. Dean’s nervous energy bouncing around in his soul distracted Cas and drew him in. He took a chance and leaned into Dean’s shoulder. “Did you know that penguins give their potential lovers pebbles to express their desire to mate?” Dean turned to face Cas to give a witty retort, but instead found himself staring into six feet of close-cut formalwear and clean-shaven jaw and clear blue sky and dark locks that smelled like Dean and angelic power and human tenderness, and all his words fluttered away. Instead, he gave a small smile and shake of his head. Cas smiled, leaned in closer to Dean’s face as if their conversation was private, and continued sincerely, “Many species of penguins are monogamous,” and Dean smiled goofily at him. “And you are about six times as tall as a blue penguin,” and Dean laughed as Cas held up six of his perfect fingers on his perfect hands and shook his head fondly at the randomness of these facts specifically and of his best friend in general. Dean relaxed and leaned over to speak to his brother, hand resting comfortably on Sam’s shoulder, and Castiel smiled at the interaction, glad that he was able to help Dean’s nervousness dissipate. They stepped into their places as the music began.

Sophie walked alone down the aisle. She was stunning in her mother’s wedding gown, which had been modified to reflect Sophie’s simpler, more modern taste. Her usual confidence flagged and she stopped suddenly halfway down the aisle, laughing and crying as she became overwhelmed with the moment. Sam walked up to her, eyes shining, and wrapped his arms around her, whispering something in her ear that made her smile, then something else that made her playfully smack him in the shoulder. They held hands as they approached the arch together, in front of the family and friends who could make it on such short notice – which was, pleasantly, nearly everyone.

Carwyn stepped before them. “Sophia and Samuel, today you commit yourselves to each other in the presence of those who give your love the energy it needs to burn so brightly. So, too, your love burns brightly for them, giving them strength and serenity. We thank God and the Lifeforce that you have found each other.” She winked at them with amusement.

“Humans are beings of light, and as such the love humans share with each other helps that light to burn brightly. However, some rare beings of light share a love that transcends mortal existence. Your love is that kind of love. It is the love of soulmates, of light-mates. The love of light-mates is not merely mutual admiration or passion. It transforms others and transforms those who are connected by it. In this connection your souls, so bright on their own, create life energy greater than either of you, and that energy changes the world. The love of light-mates is a profound bond between the beings….”

Dean stopped breathing. _Profound bond_. He slid his eyes away from the bride and groom to look surreptitiously (he hoped) at Cas. Castiel was focused on Sam and Sophie, but his eyes were brighter, warmer, and more contemplative than Dean had ever seen them. He breathed deeply through his nostrils and forced himself not to do something stupid, like panic. Or cry. Or think.

The rest of the ceremony was blessedly short. Thank God or whoever or whatever, because Dean wasn’t sure if he could stand much longer. Between his happiness for his brother and new sister-in-law, his panic over everything that was Cas, and _profound bond_ swirling in his mind, he really just needed to sit. However, he plastered on a smile and carried on, as he was so used to doing. He shook hands and greeted people, introduced his mother and Cas to some of the guests, made sure the room was being set up properly for dinner and dancing, and ignored his own little heartbreak and accompanying pity party.

The reception was, admittedly, a lot of fun. Whatever catering company Star Struck used for their functions made some kick-ass chicken parmesan, and Dean ate heartily. The alcohol helped to tamp down his uneasiness, and soon Dean found himself having a good time. He and Cas watched with a smile as Sam and Sophie swayed to _At Last_ and then as Sophie danced with her dad and Sam with his mom to _Wind Beneath My Wings_ (Dean pretended to vomit and Cas rolled his eyes and patted his back).

Just as Dean thought they were going to open up the floor to all the guests, the DJ announced that the bride and groom wanted the wedding party to dance one song with them. Sophie and Sam eyed them wickedly because, of course, Dean and Cas were the only members of the wedding party. Everyone began cheering and clapping and whistling, forcing the blush to creep up faster on Dean’s face. He briefly considered either killing them or running away when he felt Cas’ hand lead him by the arm to the dance floor.

“You just make yourself more conspicuous by standing there,” Cas murmured as they found their place on the floor. Sophie and Sam grinned at them and started dancing.

“Fine, but I’m leading,” Dean muttered as they began. Cas made sure not to dance too closely, and he talked to Dean about why Americans have weddings for their pets (“They can’t even consent, Dean” “Animals have no use for formalwear, Dean”). Dean was laughing so hard that he never noticed _Thinking Out Loud_ transition to _All I Want is You_ and he never noticed the guests smiling their way with their hands over their hearts or joining them on the dance floor and he never noticed the couple who tried to enter through the fire door in the back of the hall but couldn’t make it through the invisible shield.

Dean got drunk enough to beam with pride when Cas danced with Sophie without stepping on her toes and to join them on the floor when Cas requested _Super Bass_ for Sophie and even to sing a little karaoke. He was pretty drunk. He wasn’t drunk enough to ignore the troubled look on Cas’ face later in the afternoon, but he was drunk enough to be appeased by Cas’ reassurance that everything was fine.

***

“You don’t plan to tell him, do you?” Carwyn asked Castiel sadly.

“No, I don’t,” Castiel agreed.

“The time is short.”

“Yes.”

Carwyn sighed. “I wish you would.”

__________________

Songs referenced in this chapter:

_At Last_ by Etta James

_Wind Beneath My Wings_ by Bette Midler

_Thinking Out Loud_ by Ed Sheeran

_All I Want is You_ by U2

_Super Bass_ by Nicki Minaj


	29. Exile

Dean couldn’t remember how he got back to his hotel room after the wedding. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and flung the covers from his body, hoping against hope he had something for his headache in his bag. He shuffled into the bathroom and found the meds in the first aid kit (which he never traveled without, wedding or no) near his toothbrush. He popped them into his mouth, ducked his head under the faucet to wash them down, and stumbled into the shower.

Feeling a bit less groggy, he threw on the jeans, t-shirt, and long sleeved plaid shirt he wore before the wedding yesterday. As he rubbed pomade through his hair, he thought of Cas, and it all came rushing back: stupid distracting penguin facts, profound bond, animal weddings, dancing to stupid romantic songs and stupid pop songs, and a worried look on Cas’ face. _Shit. What was it he was worried about? And where is he?_

Dean came out of the bathroom and looked around the room frantically. His mother was in the other bed. No Cas to be seen. His tuxedo, which needed to go back to the rental place, was hanging in the small closet near the bathroom. _A note. Cas usually leaves a note._ Dean looked on every surface in the room. He didn’t leave a note this time. He was just gone.

Mary woke up during Dean’s frenzied search and said, “Left pocket of your tux.”

Dean stuck his hand in the pocket and felt his heartbeat slow to something almost normal. It was Cas’ handwriting, but it was scrawled instead of neat, with no Enochian.

_Dean – I’m sorry I had to leave. Mary assured me she would watch over you and get you back to the room. I’ll contact you as soon as I can. – C_

Dean worried his lip between his teeth. This didn’t look good.

***

Three days of no word left Dean a grouchy, edgy mess. He slammed through the door with a six-pack in his hand.

“Alcohol? At this hour?” Sophie whispered to Sam and Mary as they watched Dean check his phone for the umpteenth time that morning. Sam was washing dishes as Sophie and Mary ate breakfast at the counter. A knock at the door startled them. Dean flew off the couch to answer it, expecting Cas on the other side (forgetting that he could just appear in the bunker if he wanted to), but was surprised to see a stranger standing before him.

“Who are you?” Dean asked suspiciously.

“Please, don’t hurt me… I’m looking for Castiel,” the man said. “I’m… his light-mate.”

Dean was freefalling. _Shit. This isn’t happening. Except it is. Right here._

Dean stared at the man standing on the stoop. He was a few inches shorter than Dean, a little too thin, and his bleached blond hair and lip ring reflected the late December sun. A colorful tattoo peeked out of the man’s tattered shirt collar. He looked about 25 years old. _This is Cas’ light-mate? His beloved?_ Dean knew appearances weren’t everything and this guy’s soul was probably really old, but the guy at his door looked too young for Cas. _Anyone is too young for a being that’s millennia-old, dumbass._ He took a deep breath to keep himself from hyperventilating.

“Uh, well, he’s not here,” Dean managed, when he finally found his voice again. Sam stepped up behind him to see who was at the door.

“Who’s not here?” Sam asked.

Dean turned to Sam. “Cas. Uh… this is… Cas’ light-mate,” he said, trying to sound upbeat and failing. Sam stared at the man.

“He’s in danger. You all are. Please, can I come in…”

“There you are, demon,” a voice suddenly said behind the man. Dean and Sam startled as another man stepped behind the blond. The second man, a redhead with a smooth voice, said smugly, “This, gentlemen, is why Castiel sent me. To protect you from vermin.” He shoved the demon inside before they could react.

“He didn’t send you!” the blond yelled as he was wrestled inside, demon knife at his back.

“Of course he did. There are several of us angels watching the perimeter. Do you think he would leave the Winchesters unprotected?” He looked at the brothers. “Do you have a demon trap, storage room, someplace to put this thing? We need information from him. He’s taken Castiel and we can’t find him,” the angel said.

Dean swallowed hard and tried to stay calm. _Cas. Captured_. The angel pushed past him into the bunker, and Dean led them down to the dungeon. Sam followed, his weapons at his side in case something went wrong. The angel tied up the demon as Sam tried to catch Dean’s eyes. He was completely focused on the demon in front of him. Sam gripped his arm to try to bring him back to reality, but Dean was gone, lost in his emotions. _Shit, he’s going to be useless._

The angel began to interrogate and torture the demon before him. “Where did you bring him? Who do you work for? What harm do you mean these people?” Each question was punctuated by slaps and slices of the demon knife. The demon never answered the questions; he screamed in pain and looked at Sam and Dean, saying “I am not the enemy, please! He is!” each time.

After several minutes of torture, in which the demon grew weaker and weaker, the angel seethed, “You are useless. Worthless. I will show you what our enemies get.” He finally raised the knife to end the torture. Instead of plunging it into the demon, however, he turned toward Dean. “Yes, I will show you what our enemies get, Dean Winchester,” he snarled, and Dean’s eyes widened as he realized what was about to go down. Sam tried to move around Dean, but he was pinned between Dean and the wall and couldn’t move.

Light whited out the room and briefly blinded Sam and Dean. The knife was thrown from the angel’s hand as heat and wind tore through the space. When they could see again, Dean looked for the angel and saw Castiel in front of him, eyes glowing that ethereal blue that meant he was channeling his angelic wrath. He gripped the other angel’s shirt in one hand and held the crown of his head with the other as he spoke to him through gritted teeth in what Dean assumed was Enochian. A light oozed from the red-haired angel’s vessel and pooled into Castiel’s hand, which he surrounded with a golden orb.

“Sam. A vial,” Castiel commanded in a low voice. Sam switched places with Cas and held the angel in place with his blade. Cas tipped the orb from his hand into the vial and sealed it tightly before pocketing it. “I’ll be right back,” he hummed low at Dean before disappearing with the angel’s vessel out of the dungeon. The three took deep breaths as they waited for Cas to return.

Castiel returned a moment later, and Dean sighed a grateful breath before anger welled up in him. He wasn’t going to argue with Cas in front of the demon, though. United front and all. He pulled Castiel aside and spoke to him quietly.

“What’d you do there?” Dean asked.

“I removed the angel from the vessel. He’s in this.” Cas lifted the vial.

“You didn’t kill him. You showed him mercy. Even when he would’ve sliced you without thinking twice.” Dean had difficulty keeping the anger out of his voice.

Castiel gave Dean a soft look and touched his forearm. “I don’t care about him slicing me. But it took every bit of restraint I had not to kill him instantly when he threatened you.”

Dean’s mouth dried up. “Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to harm the human he was possessing, and I sensed regret and mind control in his grace. His grace was…ill. I could not determine whether he wished to seek redemption because he was not clear-headed and able to make his own decisions. I will hand him to Carwyn for rehabilitation.”

Dean nodded. Castiel gave him a small smile before turning and regarding the demon in front of him.

“Tell us,” Castiel said gently to the young man.

The demon explained that he had been a part of Marou’s team of demons. She had told them that life would be better, and that the bitterness of their lives as demons would disappear once she had power.

“She gave us hope,” he said. Cas nodded for him to continue.

He explained further that life didn’t change for the demons – became worse, in fact – and he became disenchanted with Marou’s promises. When he learned about Marou’s ultimate plan, he broke away and found the Winchesters to warn them and Castiel.

“How’d you know where we were?” Sam asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I followed Dean from the store,” he explained. “We knew your general vicinity, but not your exact location.”

“So why call yourself Cas’ light-mate?” Dean asked, then, worriedly, “You’re not, are you?”

Castiel and blond guy both gave him an incredulous look and said “no” simultaneously.

“I just figured you guys might be sympathetic and let me in,” blond guy shrugged.

Dean pressed his lips together and released a noisy breath through his nose. “So, what’s in it for you, huh? Why bother warning us?”

The demon looked at Castiel hopefully. “There’s a rumor that you… that you can redeem those who want to be redeemed.”

Cas nodded. “I can determine who truly seeks redemption, yes. It’s the divine power of God and the Lifeforce that redeems you. I am merely the conduit.” He studied the demon closely. “You have not been a demon for long.”

“No,” he admitted. “Just a few decades. I still remember being human. I… was hoping perhaps I could… seek out redemption from you. I am afraid I... am losing myself.”

Cas nodded in thought. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

“Just that the time is close. She plans to destroy you and your light-mate and all you’ve worked for. She wants the world to be as dark and miserable as she is. And she… well, she has never said this, but I think she is in love with you.” Cas’ brows furrowed in confusion. “I think she is very jealous of your light-mate. And that partner of hers, Jesse… watch out for him. He is jealous of you. He thinks you will take her away from him.”

Castiel sighed. “I am stuck in some sort of lover’s quarrel in which I want no part.”

“More like a love triangle,” Sam said, “or, a love square? The four of you?”

“Whatever it is, it will have deadly consequences. They need to be stopped.” He turned to Sam and Dean. “I thought you’d be safe here, but… it appears you are not.”

“We’re not safe anywhere, Cas,” Dean stated. “We need to go deal with them. Enough pussyfooting around. Where are they?” Dean asked as he turned to the demon.

“They move constantly,” he shared. “I don’t know now.” Dean gave him a hard look and began to move forward, but Castiel stopped him with a hand to his chest. The ring on his finger created a spot of heat near Dean’s heart.

“He tells the truth,” Castiel said. He scrutinized the demon closely. “You are repentant,” he observed.

The blond nodded. “Please,” he whispered.

A warm glow emanated from the angel’s hands as he touched the demon. A moment later, a spark on his palm turned into white smoke. The demon was gone, leaving only the vessel he had occupied. Cas placed two fingers on his shoulder and sent him away, returning alone a second later.

“You all need to go,” he said upon his return. “We are being held hostage by their games. It’s time for me to end this.”

“We’re not going anywhere except with you,” Dean said with an edge in his voice.

“This isn’t a discussion, Dean,” Cas hissed.

“No, it isn’t, because we’re going.” Dean was defiant.

“You’re not. It is too dangerous. She did not even send her most powerful being to chase down that demon. There are many that are worse. If they manage to find you again – and they will if you continue to be around me – they will kill you. I will not risk it.”

“You don’t get to decide for me!”

“We’ll see about that.”

Four angels joined Cas in the small room. “Take them all to the safe house we prepared,” he said, sadness roughening his voice as he looked away. “They need to be far away from me.”

Before either of the brothers could speak, a brilliant blue light flashed in their eyes. Dean blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots in his vision. When he could see reasonably well again, he looked up to continue his argument with Cas.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled as he realized they were far, far from the bunker.

 


	30. Nothing Will Change If You Never Choose

Castiel liked the little community. It had a quaint, welcoming quality to it, with friendly neighbors and no supernatural anything (except himself, he supposed) in sight. A couple of people waved to him as he walked down the charmingly cracked sidewalk. As he got closer to his destination, he heard music wafting through an open window of a tidy, slightly weathered white house (with matching white picket fence, Castiel noted with amusement). The warm spring breeze ruffled his hair as he turned into the driveway, passing the vehicle parked outside. Through a small window, he caught a glimpse of tools lined up on an uncluttered workbench in the detached garage. The music grew louder and more distinct in his ears as he stepped up the few stairs onto a wraparound porch. He opened the screen door, then the cheery, red wooden door, and stepped inside.

The doors led to a large kitchen that appeared to be in the middle of a major renovation. One counter was crammed with a coffeemaker, toaster, and microwave, leaving little space for prep work. A longer expanse of counter was covered in dust, lumber, nails, and tools. Large lumps of blue tarp dotted the area, protecting whatever was underneath from paint and sawdust. Through the kitchen Castiel saw a living room, with sliding glass doors that led to a backyard, where he glimpsed manicured grass, a tall oak tree, and a flowerbed. _That’s the backyard from my training with Dean._

The music was coming from the living room. Now that he was inside, Castiel could tell that it wasn’t recorded music; it was being performed. Someone was pounding skillfully and enthusiastically on a piano, and another person was playing a guitar. Two men were singing a familiar song as a duet, trading lyrics. Castiel stood in the kitchen and listened, hardly daring to believe it, as a deep voice sang:

_I, I won’t come back to you broken, I won’t stay away too long_

_Even if words I’ve spoken seem to still come out wrong_

_I’ll get my shit back together, get right where I belong_

_Who do you love?_

The other man repeated the question as the first man continued to carry the note on love, and Castiel knew that voice. He stepped into the doorway, unable to contain his curiosity and hope. His suspicions were confirmed and it nearly took his breath away as he watched Dean, seated on a small, backless chair with his guitar in hand, sing to him, Castiel, as he played the piano:

_Everything goes quiet, it’s like I just can’t move_

_You say I might as well try it, there’s nothing left to lose_

_Nothing will change if you never choose…_

And oh, it was so, so perfect.

Dean was lost in the moment. He was so happy in this place. It was his. He just knew it was. _His_ Baby was in _his_ driveway, _his_ workbench was in _his_ garage, _his_ tools were in _his_ mess of a kitchen, and he was playing his guitar. What made him the happiest, though, was being with Cas, his best friend, with no demons or angels or monsters or world-ending disasters. It had been so long since he felt _this_ relaxed, _this_ content. He wasn’t sure if he ever had, really. But this, this was perfect. A house, Cas, and music. An ordinary day. _Home_.

His part of the song was coming up, and he almost forgot it as he watched Cas’ fingers glide over the keys and his mouth form the words Dean had always hoped to hear – _I won’t stay away too long. Get right where I belong._ And he did. He kept his promise, because he was here. And as Dean sang _Nothing will change if you never choose_ , he felt the truth of it, desperately, and suddenly felt as if he’d left something undone.

“Dean.”

Dean’s head snapped up and he saw Cas, _his_ Cas, in the doorway. He looked back to see the piano bench empty, the notes floating away into silence. Dean swallowed.

“I’m dreaming.”

“Yes.”

“You’re in my dream.”

“Yes.”

“Which means it wasn’t safe to come in person.”

“Yes.”

“Are you in danger?”

“I will be.”

“You’re a dick, you know.”

“I know.”

They stared at each other for a while, not quite knowing what to say. Dean broke the trance.

“You know I’m gonna do everything I can to find you.”

“You know I’m going to do everything I can to protect you.”

Silence filled the room as they both looked at the hardwood floor.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“Where?”

“Nice try. I’m certain you’ll figure it out.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you are one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever encountered.”

They looked up at the same time. Cas stepped forward. Dean pressed his lips into a thin line before he, too, stood from his seat and stepped forward. Slowly, wordlessly, Cas pulled Dean into a tender embrace, wrapping one arm around his back and the other on his shoulders. He placed a hand near Dean’s ear and pressed his face gently into Dean’s cheek. He unconsciously swayed with Dean a little as he held him. It brought up too much emotion for Dean, and he pushed it away, choosing to put on a mask of gruffness and stoicism instead. He tried to draw away but Castiel wouldn’t let him. He was secretly relieved.

"You've said your goodbyes?"

 

"Yes, I saw everyone else. You are the last."

 

He pondered the fact that he was the last and wondered why. Through his restrained emotion, he argued hurriedly, "You don't have to do this. We'll find another way, we always do. We'll find your light-mate, we'll hide you."

 

"I have to." Dean felt Cas’ jaw move against face. The angel’s coarse stubble burned into his skin.

 

Dean felt himself start to crumble. He pulled back to look Cas in the eyes and, desperately, he shouted, "You don't, man! We've outsmarted worse than this! We've turned destiny on its ass, man. This doesn't have to be your destiny."

 

Gently, Cas rested one hand over Dean’s heart and the other on his shoulder and held Dean’s despairing gaze with calm, understanding eyes. "Love is freedom, Dean. There's no freedom or choice in destiny. This isn't my destiny. This is my destination. He is my destination."

 

It was the sweetest thing Dean had ever heard, and if he had heard it in some romance movie, he would’ve laughed at how far-fetched it sounded. No one actually said those things or felt that way about anyone in real life. But Cas was not one to say what he didn’t mean, and as Cas’ words echoed in his mind, he knew it was Cas’ truth. Dean staggered internally at the weight of his pure, unequivocal declaration.

 

He knew his friend had to be struggling, though, despite his apparent confidence in his destination. Dean wanted to support him and be a good friend. He was clearly in love. Still, he had to ask. If this guy was his destination, he'd better damn well deserve Cas. The guy had never shown his face. What kind of person did that? If this guy really did have some sort of feelings for Cas, shouldn't he be doing something? Dean grabbed his arms and, in a strangled voice, he asked, "Then where the hell is he, Cas? Why isn't your light-mate fighting for you?"

 

Cas looked at Dean sadly and murmured, "He's exactly where I need him to be. Safe."

 

Silence fell once again as they hesitated to let go, knowing what was ahead. Dean’s last shred of composure crumbled as he slid one hand away from Cas’ arm and placed it firmly on his face, trying to ground himself and make sure Cas was still there. His eyes stayed dry but his cracking voice betrayed his inner struggle.

 

"Just... whatever happens... if you make it.... just... come back to me. Before you leave for good. Please just come back to me.” He paused, then added (to make sure he didn’t sound so damn desperate), “I have to know you’re okay."

 

Castiel closed his eyes and pulled the side of Dean’s face hard into his, so close but not enough. His lips brushed the shell of his ear as he whispered,

 

"I will always come back to you."

 

Dean woke suddenly from his dream, sweating and clutching the pillow to him like he still held Cas in his hands. He was aching with dread. He threw the covers off, scrambled for his jeans, and burst out of the bedroom, his feet pounding heavily on the stairs as he practically flew to the first floor.

 

"Sam! Sophie! Mom!"

 

He found Sam in the first floor bedroom, hurriedly dressing, and Sophie and Mary in the kitchen, gathering what food and supplies they could.

 

"He came to see you, too," Sophie said. She stopped what she was doing and wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back and rocking him back and forth as Cas had. It was too much. He had to pull away.

 

"We're going to find him," she said, firm and certain. Dean nodded once.

 

Sam raced out of the bedroom. They quickly grabbed the protein bars from the kitchen cabinets and headed for the door. Nalia, one of their "angel guards," as Dean put it, was waiting, hands relaxed at her sides. Sam, Dean, and Mary prepared for a fight – or at least as much of a fight as they could, since there were three more angels waiting outside. She lifted a hand toward Dean, who lifted his hands in response to defend himself, but rather than stop him she gave him a folded piece of paper.

 

"I imagine you won't stop if I ask," she said.

 

"No," they said in unison.

 

She looked at them sadly. "As he thought. My instructions were to give this to you in the event you chose to leave."

 

Dean took the paper carefully. He had a feeling he knew what it was.

 

"You're not going to stop us?" he asked doubtfully.

 

She shrugged. "I was instructed to allow you the choice." Dean nodded and thanked her as they passed.

 

Nalia called after them, "We brought your vehicle for you. He thought you'd appreciate that." She tossed him the keys. "If you see him... if everything goes well... thank him for us."

 

Dean seemed distracted by the paper in his hand, so Sam nodded and said, "We will."

 

When they'd packed the few things they had, they looked expectantly at Dean, who leaned against the car and toyed absently with the edge of the paper in his hand.

 

"Hey," Sam said. He patted his shoulder. "Go. Take a minute." Dean gave a quick nod as he walked a few feet away. His hands trembled slightly - in anticipation, fear, maybe both - as he unfolded the sheet and skipped the Enochian to read:

 

_Dear Dean – I have experienced the extraordinarily ordinary with you, and I will forever be grateful. Yours, Cas_

 

He read the short note over and over. _Ordinary. Yours._

 

_Fuck_.

 

Dean strode quickly back to the car and slid in, slamming the door behind him. He looked toward the others impatiently, expecting some direction. No one knew where to go.

 

"So, now what? He didn't leave anyone a map, did he?" Sam asked. The others shook their heads. Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, well, let's grab some gasoline and food and maybe we'll figure it out." It was as good a plan as any.

 

Twenty minutes later, the Winchesters piled into the closest diner they could find and ordered their meals to go. While they waited, they took advantage of the free Wi-Fi to hunt down anything they could about Cas' whereabouts.

 

"Do you really think we'll make it, Dean?" Sophie asked timidly. "In his last video, it sounded like he was going to be confronting them tonight." Dean hadn't seen the video. He watched with Sophie while Sam and Mary worked on tracing Cas' phone.

 

Cas was in the bunker, although there was nothing to identify it as such to anyone who’d never lived there. He was dressed informally in a pair of jeans and a fitted blue Henley, and he rested his elbows on the table and held his face in one hand as he spoke into the camera. He looked serene to the casual observer, but Dean could see several emotions flickering across his face – worry, fear, pride, affection. In most of his videos he was interacting with others about love or talking and acting more animatedly and demonstratively. This one reflected the Cas that Dean was more familiar with – reflective, quiet, determined. He spoke softly, but with faith and resolve. Dean and Sophie leaned toward the screen to listen.

 

“My friends,” Cas started. “Thank you for being on this journey with me. In these videos and in person we have talked about all the battles that we fight daily – to survive, to make good choices, to stay connected, to forgive, to allow ourselves to be forgiven, to admit our mistakes, to start over, to love. I’ve had the privilege of connecting with so many of you. You have allowed me into your lives and allowed me to impact you, just as you’ve impacted me, and I am grateful. Tonight I will confront my insecurities and fears to fight for love. I do it for you, I do it for me, I do it for my family, and I do it for my beloved.

 

Love seems like such an ordinary thing, doesn’t it? It seems like something that everyone should naturally know how to do. What I’ve learned is that some beings are quite adept at it – it comes so easily. I admit I’ve envied that ease, but I have also learned from it. Some beings think they are living their love but are really living something else masquerading as love – avoidance, fear, lust, grief, guilt. Some beings work very hard to live their love, and it is those people that, I think, get the most satisfaction in the end. I admit that it has taken me a long time to understand love, but I think it is finally starting to make sense.

 

Western media encourages us to think of love as something grand – bold declarations, sweeping romantic gestures – and sometimes it is. But the love that endures – the love of those who have a profound bond – is extraordinarily ordinary. It’s making breakfast, it’s enduring someone’s choice in music, it’s dancing, it’s arguing over foolish material things, it’s small touches, it’s saying things wrong. It’s believing in someone when they don’t believe in themselves, and it’s wanting the best for another. It’s all of this and so much more. And despite jokes I’ve heard that compare a loving commitment to imprisonment, true love – true connection and unity – is freedom to be vulnerable, to learn, to make mistakes, to become your best self. I’d waited lifetimes for this kind of love, yet I had no idea what I was waiting for. But what I was waiting for was someone to show me, someone to challenge me, someone to push me to my limits and beyond, and someone to make me want this ordinary little thing we call love. I do want it, and whatever happens in my life, I will never regret pursuing it.

 

So please, tonight, I ask you to think of me and send me your support. Send me your love, your best wishes, your prayers, your benevolent intentions, your bright energy, your wisdom. And please, even more so, send these to my beloved and my family. Thank you so much for allowing me into your lives. I love you all.”

 

Dean stared at the screen where Cas’ face was frozen. _The love that endures is extraordinarily ordinary._ It took every ounce of strength he had to keep his emotions in check. His best friend was fighting for his life... fighting to have a life that was his own, fighting for love... and he was all alone. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. Sophie squeezed his hand silently. He squeezed back.

 

"Sammy!” he barked anxiously. “Any luck?"

 

"Hang on, it’s working... got it. Traced his phone." He looked up at Dean. "Pontiac, Illinois."

 

Dean scrambled to his feet. "The barn. That's why Carwyn had him train there. She was preparing him. Sam, see how long it takes to get to Pontiac from here. Maybe we aren't too late."

 

"On it," he said, then groaned. "Dean, it's going to take fourteen hours to drive there."

 

He wiped a hand across his face. "Okay. Then find the nearest airport."

 

"You hate flying..."

 

"It doesn't matter! Just do it!"

 

They hurried to the car as Sam searched for the nearest airport on his phone.

 

"Uh, okay,” Sam said as he climbed in, “nearest would be either Cheyenne or Denver, but it looks like flights to both Chicago and Bloomington have been cancelled. Big storm out that way."

 

Dean slammed his fist into the steering wheel. "Alright. You keep checking. Hope no one's gonna need a bathroom break for a while." Dean pressed his foot on the pedal until it touched the floor.

 

***

 

Cas had finished his video that morning and given what would hopefully not be a final farewell to the bunker. He hoped that it would work, that it would give him the energy he would need. If he was truthful, though, he knew that he needed one final piece of the puzzle, one he’d refused to put in place. It was his own fault if he lost, but some things were just more important.

 

The angel situated himself just outside of the barn where he’d met Dean Winchester and Bobby Singer (on Earth, anyway). He sighed heavily as he assembled the elements needed for the summoning. He had underestimated Marou. She’d been popping up everywhere he went lately, spewing her vitriol, trying to spur him into action against her. So far, he hadn’t taken the bait, as he’d done in previous times. Look where that had gotten him. However, she was getting too close to the Winchesters and that wasn’t acceptable. The last few encounters he’d had with her showed that she was powerful in a way he hadn't anticipated. The black magic, combined with what she had left of her grace and the force of her hatred, forced him to think and act differently than he’d thought he would need to do. Now, though, he felt ready. Or, at least, almost ready. He had said his goodbyes. He had trained. He knew, surely, that he was in the right. Unity, connection, love - the Lifeforce was alive and well, and was everything good about the multiverse. Never in his long existence had he felt so right about his cause. He had a destination. He allowed himself, finally, to choose.

 

He chanted the summoning and she appeared before him in a ring of holy oil, angry and bitter.

 

"Marou," he said, "It’s time."

 

Her voice oozed sensuality and venom. "Oh yeah, lover? For what?"

 

"To talk."

 

"Finally coming to your senses, beautiful?"

 

"I want to discuss the solution to our conflict."

 

"I don't negotiate, sweetheart."

 

"Neither do I. I will need you to bring Jesse and the rest of your...supports."

 

"And why would I do that?"

 

"I want to offer all of you the same opportunity. Do not pretend you wouldn't have brought them anyway."

 

She pouted contemptuously. "But you won't be bringing your light-mate or your little so-called family to the party. Fair's fair."

 

"Because you mean them harm. I do not mean you or any of your associates harm. I simply wish to implement the solution that will be the best outcome for the multiverse and those that inhabit it – angels and humans alike."

 

"And if I don't?"

 

"I will find you."

 

She considered this. "And?"

 

"And I will not offer mercy, as I am now."

 

"Mmm. Hard bargain. I like you all powerful and strong.” She leered at him and licked her lips. “When and where?"

 

"Tonight. Here. There is where we will end this, once and for all, Marou. This is your opportunity. Do not waste it." He dismissed her with a flick of his wrist.

 

When he was satisfied that she was truly gone, he slumped to the ground. He was exhausted, stressed, and afraid. He was a warrior of Heaven, yet somehow he was more afraid of this than of anything else he had faced. He knew why. The emotional investment was huge, the stakes high. The loss would be catastrophic. He couldn't fail. Not again. He had to convince her – them, all of them – to see reason, to see good. They had to repent. If not – for the good of the world, for the good of his light-mate – he had to eliminate them so they would never again be a threat. He wondered if that made him as bad as them. He was appointing himself as judge, after all, and hadn't he made mistakes? No matter how large his mistakes, though, they were always, always in the name of life, of good, of love – the love of humanity, his Father's creation. One human in particular, sometimes, but to the benefit of all, ultimately.

 

Castiel called for Carwyn.

 

"Are you ready, my love?" she asked him.

 

He breathed deeply, a meditative breath that gave his life energy laser focus. "Yes. I need to do this. Fear will not be the energy that fuels me. Love is the force that will carry me home."

 

She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him softly. "I am so, so very proud of you, Castiel." He let her words wash through him, filling the empty spaces.

 

With that, she left him. It would take Marou, Jesse, and the others time to get to him, so he entered the barn and sat to meditate on all that had been, was now, and what could hopefully be.

 

***

 

They got as far as Brady, Nebraska before the skies turned gray and rained ice and snow on the roads to Pontiac. Dean was concentrating hard now, locking his eyes onto the road ahead. The road felt like one long tunnel of snow, visibility so poor he had to slow to a crawl. He didn't know the area and couldn't chance pushing the car too much. It was ill-equipped for this weather. He'd been too busy to bother with snow tires. He cursed himself.

 

"What are the chances we can get a flight now, Sam?" he asked tensely.

 

Sam checked his phone. "Not good. Flights aren't even leaving the closest airport right now, and it's even worse where we're headed. Dean, I don't think we're gonna make it. Maybe we should just...."

 

"Don't say it 'cause it ain't happening."

 

"I'm trying to be realistic..."

 

"Well go be realistic somewhere else. I'll be glad to drop you off at the nearest motel on the way."

 

"Dean, he didn't even want us to come!"

 

"Of course he did! And even if he didn't, it wouldn't be right for us to just sit by and do nothing. That's not us, Sam."

 

"He wanted to protect us, to keep us safe..."

 

"I'm not giving up! Even if we arrive too late, I want him to know we tried, damn it!" Dean could feel his voice start to shake. He clenched his teeth as tightly as his hands on the wheel. "He has to know we tried. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try. He's...he's my… best friend. He's been there for me. He deserves a good life. I want to help him have that. And if he doesn't make it..." He swallowed hard as his eyes prickled. It hurt so much. "...I want to take care of his body. I don't want him to be alone." He pressed his lips together to keep himself from bursting.

 

"I know, Dean. I’m sorry. I know how much he means to you. I just - shit, Dean!" Sam gripped the door handle and the dashboard as the car skidded on ice and scraped a guardrail before coming to rest in a ditch.

 

"Is everyone all right?" Dean shouted. They replied in the affirmative. After a moment, Dean growled and climbed out of the car to inspect the damage. The front passenger headlight was out, and it looked like there was some damage to the side as well.

 

"Sophie or mom, one of you steer. Sam, come help me push," Dean yelled into the storm. Sam joined him behind the car while Sophie climbed into the front seat. Mary joined her sons to help push. The wheels spun ineffectively.

 

"Damn it!" Dean screamed. He pounded both fists into the trunk before running his hands through his hair, wet flakes matting it down to his head. He gulped deep, stinging breaths as he tried to keep himself from falling apart on the side of a deserted road in Nebraska.

 

Sophie approached Dean cautiously until she was standing in front of him. She held his face in her hands until he met her eyes. Her eyes were glistening with tears, and her lip was quivering. "Sweetie," she whispered. He saw his own heartbreak in her face, and yet she was so open about her feelings, so trusting...

 

_When you trust me – when you are truly willing to allow me into your soul – call to me, and I will answer._

_Oh my God. That's it._

 

"Carwyn!" Dean called into the abyss. "Carwyn! We need you!" Then, in a whisper, "I need you."

 

They felt her presence before they saw her, immediately comforted by her energy. The snow blowing around them turned to rain as the air warmed and Carwyn emerged, flushed and wild. Sam, Sophie, and Mary instantly calmed in her presence. Dean found he no longer felt that peculiar guilt and unworthiness. Instead, he felt not only the longing, but also relief, faith, and trust.

 

"My love," she greeted him. She grasped his bicep. "It has begun."

 

Dean supported himself by leaning on the Impala. _No, no, no._ He choked back a sob. "Carwyn," he finally said after a long silence. His voice cracked in sorrow. "Will you... will you go to him? Help him? At least watch over him? Tell him I tried... I really tried, Carwyn, but I just wasn't enough. So I need you. I'm asking. Please." He looked at her pleadingly.

 

She regarded him and caressed his face with her palm. "Dean. You finally trust." She motioned for the others to join them. "And I trust you." They stood, draping each other in a huddle. "But what I don't understand is why you didn't simply ask for what you wanted."

 

"I did," he said.

 

"I mean, why didn't you ask me to take you there?"

 

He stared at her, dumbfounded. His entire focus had been on Cas. He had forgotten that she could get them there. He looked at her hopefully. She nodded. Through a fold in time and space, she brought them and his car to the barn. A preternatural glow emanated from the split wood of the structure. Despite the blizzard, a crowd of people surrounded it, hands joined in a circle. Carwyn turned to the Winchesters.

 

"As I said, Dean, I trust you. I cannot continue in with you, but I know you will do your best. I am very proud of you, Dean. I am so proud of the light you have allowed through." He could only nod.

 

"Why can't you come?" Sophie asked urgently.

 

"The Lifeforce must be protected at all costs. Without it, life ends. Besides, this is Castiel’s journey. I cannot interfere. I hope to see you all again. I love you all."

 

"Carwyn, thank you," Dean said. "I have to go." With that, he turned toward the barn and broke into a sprint. The rest of the Winchesters followed shortly behind.

 

Dean hurtled toward the circle. He stumbled as he broke through linked hands.

 

"Be careful in there, boy," a familiar, gruff voice said as the man helped him to his feet.

 

Dean stared at the man. "Bobby?"

 

"Yeah, it's me. Heaven's lending its support to your boy in there. We're pulling for you."

 

As he looked down the circle, he saw many of his deceased friends, people they'd helped, and even angels, all joined together for one cause. Dean was overwhelmed but couldn't stop to think about it.

 

"Thanks!" he yelled over his shoulder. Sam had a similarly stunned look as he passed through the circle before he too ran ahead, Sophie and Mary just behind him.

 

When they reached the entrance, they stopped in their tracks.

 

A huge iridescent dome filled most of the barn's interior. Black demon smoke swirling around the interior was being sucked into a tornado-like vortex of light. The tornado spat ash and white smoke. Shrieking could be heard even through the dome, which was like thick glass when touched from the outside. Dean and Sam pounded helplessly on the protective barrier, their hands turning red from the force. Mary pulled a gun and shot at the surface, but the bullet was simply absorbed into the surface.

 

Moments later, the smoke dissipated, giving the Winchesters their first glimpse inside.

 

Marou and Jesse, along with dozens of angels and other beings, were standing side by side facing toward them. Facing away from the Winchesters was Cas, simultaneously exuding power and calm. He stood alone. Inside and outside the dome and barn, sparks of light descended from above and, like a magnet, drew toward Cas. The sparks joined several rings of light rotating through and around his body like a fantastic gyroscope. He spoke, interrupting the eerie silence, and the ground shook under their feet.

 

"You must decide," he intoned, voice deep and resonant. "Seek redemption, and you will have freedom."

 

"And if we don't, what are you gonna do? Fight us with the power of love?" Jesse taunted. Dean winced at the familiar words.

 

"If you don’t, the power of love will incinerate you," he proclaimed, dark and serious. His words were met with silence.

 

Castiel continued, "Your legion of demons is gone. Many of them repented and have been redeemed. You have the same choice. Do not tell me you are more foolish than a demon?" The beings surrounding Marou and Jesse trembled and started to shift away.

 

"Stand your ground!" Marou shouted. "Do you not see we are about to have our victory? Look, his weaknesses have arrived!"

 

Dean, Mary, Sam and Sophie glanced at each other as Cas turned to look at them. Dean gasped. Much of him looked the same - same unruly hair, same skin, same body. He wore a suit and trench coat. But Dean saw that his eyes glowed that angelic, Caribbean blue he rarely saw, and were also ringed with gold around the irises. The rings on his hands buzzed loudly with energy and shone with a light not of Earth. Castiel mouthed "Stay back" but his eyes softened in thanks.

 

The brief connection between the angel and his humans was enough of a diversion for several angels to descend upon Castiel, blades in hands. Two held him tightly as the rest waited for instructions.

 

"No!" screamed Dean, Sam, Sophie and Mary. They pounded desperately on the walls of the dome, to no avail. Castiel was holding it firmly, although his energy seemed to be waning. He willed his family to back away even as he fought to keep his wits about him.

 

"You do not have to follow her. You can be forgiven. We all have darkness, but we do not have to stay there. We have choices!" Castiel appealed to his captors. "Please. I do not want to hurt you. I want you to choose to do what is right, to choose love. You will be more powerful than you can ever be with her if you choose life and unity."

 

Before they could do or say anything in response, Marou stepped forward. He looked at her defiantly. "Castiel, it's such a shame it came to this. Still, you are correct. It is time to end this. So I will end you while your loved ones watch. Nice little switch, don't you think? Except your beloved will have no one to meet in his next lifetime... only a vague longing for a love that can never be. Just…like…me." She sneered and raised the blade to strike.

 

"Cas!" Dean screamed as his heart leapt into his throat. He threw himself at the barrier and fell through, tackling Marou as he tumbled. Castiel rolled away from the angels who'd been holding him as Dean wrestled with Marou for her blade. Jesse entered the fray, blade poised to plunge into Dean's back and protect his lover.

 

The dome disintegrated as a scorching gust blew through the barn, accompanied by a high-pitched screech. Castiel angrily swept his arm across his body toward the back of the barn. Jesse, Marou, and their conspirators slammed into the back wall of the barn, wriggling in their holy restraints.

 

Castiel ran toward Dean and grabbed his arms, shaking them to emphasize his point as he started to walk the man backwards. "You need to get out of here, now! I can't keep them up there for long and I have to create the barrier again. There is too much energy being created. If I have to use all of my energy without the shield, the force will be too great for you and anyone within several miles to survive!"

 

Dean grabbed Cas’ forearms in response and stopped walking. He yelled above the noise of the wind, "Then make the barrier again but let me stay in!”

 

"I can't! You could die from the energy!"

 

"They almost killed you and you're all alone!"

 

"This is my fight!"

 

"This is _our_ fight!"

 

Cas tried to make him understand, but he knew Dean would never heed his words. He also knew that he desperately needed to make Dean understand. How could he make him understand why Cas had to keep him away, why he had to keep him safe?

 

_He’s a man of action. Do it, don’t talk about it._

_He lives his love through action._

_It will not be a victory until you fully manifest your love for your light-mate, regardless of the ultimate outcome._

 

As Dean tried to maneuver around Cas toward their trapped assailants, Cas captured his face and looked into his eyes ( _like the field, my field by the stream where everything is calm and safe_ ). He weaved the fingers of one hand into his sandy hair ( _like the beach, our beach_ ) and pulled Dean's mouth to his own, saying _love_ and _faith_ and everything he couldn't make him hear with words alone. Dean was too stunned to respond at first, his mind too overwhelmed to process everything happening. He felt the balmy gale whipping around them, heard the pulsing of Cas' wings, tasted the rain of Cas’ mouth. Dean's brain had just caught up when he felt two fingers on his temple, and his world went black.

 

Castiel caught Dean with one arm and Sam quickly came up behind his brother. They gave each other a look and nodded their mutual understanding. Sam pulled him backwards as Cas quickly recreated the barrier, then released his foes. They dropped unceremoniously to the hard floor.

 

"Angels and others," he intoned deeply, "decide your fate or have it decided for you." Several angels and other creatures stepped forward only to be pushed back and bound by Jesse. Cas looked at him with his familiar squint and head tilt.

 

"Jesse Turner," he called. Jesse turned to him, smiling menacingly.

 

"Castiel. My rival."

 

"I am no rival of yours."

 

"You tried to kill me when I was a child."

 

"True. I was trying to prevent what you might become. I didn't have the power or wisdom to do anything else until now. I beg your forgiveness."

 

Jesse watched him for any signs of trickery. "You are still my rival for her love," he concluded.

 

"I am no rival of yours as long as you are no threat to the Lifeforce or to angels or humanity. You have fallen for her lies, but you still have choices."

 

"I have no choices!" Jesse hissed. "I am a freak. I had to leave my family, I had to learn about my powers on my own, and I was alone until she came into my life!"

 

"And why did she come, Jesse? For you? Or for me? Or for herself? Her motives have not been pure. She has used you. She said she longed for a love that could never be, Jesse. What does that tell you?"

 

"I will decide that myself, Castiel. After all, _I have choices._ And besides, maybe I was using her, too." The Antichrist killed the other creatures with a swoop of his hand, then began killing the angels one by one. Castiel quickly moved a sphere of light around the remaining angels, protecting them from harm. Jesse wheeled onto Cas, flicking his hand in an attempt to kill or disable him without touching him. Castiel deflected his energy and bound him, raising him into the air. He turned toward Marou.

 

"Well?" he challenged. "Will you save your lover? Will you live the love you proclaimed to him?"

 

Marou laughed. "Do whatever you want," she answered darkly. "He has served his purpose. He helped me find you. And I will have what's mine. Your power. Your grace. Your love. Or no one will." She lunged at Castiel, fingers gripping the angel blade tightly. He dropped Jesse in order to conserve enough energy to maintain the dome and to fight off Marou. He wrestled her to the ground, attempting to take the blade away. Jesse leapt toward them, forcing a change in their positions so that he was holding Castiel down and Marou was above him. Jesse pulled an angel blade from his sleeve and was poised to strike, but Marou stopped him and took the blade. She grinned viciously at Castiel.

 

"I guess I win again, don't I?" she purred. "And you lose."

 

Castiel knew he should be afraid and anguished. He knew he was about to die. He was exhausted from the channeling of the incredible power coursing through his Earthly body. He wouldn't see his human family or his light-mate again. And yet, all he felt was weightlessness, lightness, joy.

 

He began to laugh, and once he started, he couldn't stop. She looked at him as if he was delirious. Maybe he was. He rolled his head until he faced her and smiled.

 

"I have already won, Marou," he rasped. "You can kill me, you can torture me, you can take me away from everyone and everything I hold dear. And yet, I still won. Do you want to know why?"

 

He continued without allowing her to answer. "Because I know, even if I'm not part of the multiverse, I have spread my love throughout it. I have taught people and angels how to love, and I have learned how to love. I have facilitated unity and connection, and now humans and angels alike can harness that power themselves. You cannot beat them all, Marou. Eventually, the Lifeforce will win. The multiverse will prevail. And," he smiled and laughed again, "I told him. My light-mate knows. His soul has felt my light and love. And you can never take that away. I... am… free." He filled with warmth and serenity as he closed his eyes and allowed his arms to stretch out to his sides. Marou scowled and held the blade to his chest.

 

"No more talking," she declared as she thrusted her hand forward.

 

Sam, Sophie, and Mary watched in horror before turning away. The last thing they heard before passing out was Castiel laughing just as hot white light filled the dome and the barn fell silent.

__________________

Song referenced in this chapter:

_Who Do You Love_ by Marianas Trench

 

 


	31. Choices

Dean woke to a narrow band of sunshine streaming into his eyes. He blinked a few times and brought a hand up to rub the sleep from his face. He turned his head to the left and saw colorful flowers surrounding the entrance to the barn, snow drifting in the distance. There had been nothing there before but pavement. Blue sky floated above him through the blown-out roof. The world hadn't ended. Huh. He did it. He actually did it.

 

Sam came into his vision. "Hey, you okay?" Sam asked as he squatted beside Dean.

 

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said as he broke into a smile. "He did it, huh? Damn, I owe that son of a bitch a beer."

 

Sam looked back at him sadly. "Looks like he did it, yeah," he replied. He inhaled deeply. "Dean..."

 

"Where is he, anyway?" Dean asked as he started to sit up. He stopped at the look on his face. "Sam," he frowned, "where is he?"

 

"Dean..."

 

"Sam."

 

Sam pointed to the middle of the space, several yards away. Sophie was leaning over a figure on the floor, crying, rubbing ashes onto her face as she wiped her tears with delicate fingers. Mary sat next to her, a hand on her shoulder for comfort. Dean felt sick. He slowly walked over to them, as if approaching slowly would change what he would find. Sophie sat up as he fell to his knees. Now he could see Cas' face – physically the same, yet devoid of life. The face he'd known for so many years, warm and open, was cold. The lips he'd kissed only a few hours before – no, he hadn't responded to the kiss, too stunned to do anything. He couldn't even be what Cas needed at the end. What did he mean by that kiss? Was it goodbye, or was it a confession? Oh God... was he Cas' light-mate? Could he be? Dean couldn't bear to think about it. Instead, he cradled his angel's face in his hands and watched him, praying for a sign of life he knew wouldn't come.

 

Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, "We'll take him with us, Dean. Give him a proper burial. A hunter's funeral."

 

Sam had meant well, but for Dean it was too final. His anguish turned to anger. "No. No. Somebody's going to make this right." He stood and walked determinedly toward the entrance. He looked out the large doors, out to the flowers that had no right to be there, to the land beyond, to his car, to where the circle had gathered the evening before. He walked to his car and started kicking it. He grabbed some wood piled nearby and beat on it until he couldn't remember how many dents he put in it. _This stupid thing, this ridiculous life._ He'd give anything, anything.

 

He clutched his hair tightly in his fists before yelling to the sky, “Carwyn! What the hell? I _trusted_ you!”

 

Carwyn materialized before him, wearing what Dean had come to think of as her “Cas outfit.” “Dean,” she said gently.

 

“No, no, you don’t get to say a damn word! I let my guard down, I trusted you, and you brought me here, and now he’s gone! He…”

 

Carwyn silenced him with a palm raised in the air. “Dean. Have faith. Your trust was not misplaced. I told you God is the beginning and the end. You need to speak to God. Now.” She smiled at him tenderly before she disappeared.

 

Dean was confused now, but he’d take anyone he could get. God seemed like a logical choice. "Chuck! Hey, Chuck! Get your ass down here! You owe me an explanation!" He waited a few seconds before continuing his rant. "Stop hiding on your damn cloud, you friggin' coward!" He stepped back into the barn toward Cas, then thought better of it and turned around to call out the door, fists clenched at his sides, "Show yourself!" Dean closed his eyes and allowed his family to gather around him in a hug.

 

"Hey Dean, everybody!" God called out suddenly. Dean opened his eyes to find God, aka Chuck, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. "How are ya? Lots to celebrate!"

 

"Celebrate? _Celebrate_? You're kidding, right?"

 

Chuck looked confused. "Why not? Castiel won! He...oh, you were lights out! Man, you should've seen him. It's like he had extra power after he kissed you.” Dean winced. “Marou and Jesse had him pinned down, but he blasted them with this powerful light, unlike anything I've seen! Well, except from me or Carwyn, of course."

 

"Yeah, and he only had to sacrifice his life for it," Dean sneered. "You’re telling me you were here, the whole time, and yet you let him be killed! You could've saved him! After all he's done for you..."

 

Chuck shot him another confused look. "Dean, he's not _dead_. Anyway, the angels and Jesse repented. Marou didn't, so she's been sent to ‘rehab.’ Castiel got all the vessels back home, and here we are!" He smiled and spread his arms.

 

Dean looked back at Cas, who remained motionless. "He’s not dead. So where the hell is he?"

 

"He’s in Heaven. He was pretty worn out after all that harnessing of energy. I'll tell ya, it can be brutal. Anyway, angels heal faster in Heaven, so we brought him upstairs. We also wanted to congratulate him on his victory and thank him. 'Course, you know he's modest but I think he appreciated the gesture. I also wanted to talk to him about a new assignment I had for him."

 

Dean frowned and his hands began to sweat, despite the cold. "What new assignment?"

 

"Castiel did such an amazing job with everything he’s been doing lately that I thought he deserved a promotion, so I made him an archangel. Plus, I thought he'd be perfect for training both the older angels and the newer ones I'll be creating soon. Did you know he likes to teach? The Professor nickname Sophie gave him is apt. Well, maybe not the Hot Stuff part, I really don't look at him that way… I gave him a choice, though."

 

Dean perked up a bit. "What choice?"

 

"Well, I told him he could either take the assignment or stay here on Earth with you."

 

Dean scoffed. Too many years of rejection, indifference, and being put last tugged at his consciousness. "Some choice, Chuck. Hmm, be a powerful archangel with an important mission, or hang out on Earth with an emotionally compromised dropout. Wonder which one he picked." Sam placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Sophie wrapped an arm around his waist.

 

"Well, you know Castiel. I mean, he did consider all his options, kind of. He had some ideas about the assignment, and I thought they were great, you know? It's really why I wanted him in this position. He’s an extremely intelligent being. And, you know, we talked briefly about him staying here with you. He mentioned the kiss you didn't return. That was a little, um, awkward. But, you know, he chose pretty quickly. He said it was the only choice, just had to work out the particulars."

 

Dean sighed, resigned. "Well, because I’m a glutton for punishment, tell me – what did he choose?"

 

Chuck smiled. "He chose what I hoped he'd choose." Dean closed his eyes briefly to collect himself. He would not fall apart.

 

Chuck clapped Dean on the shoulder. "Castiel set in motion a new beginning. This world won't be perfect – there's still gonna be monsters and bad things because of free will – but it's going to be pretty great. So Dean, let go. Let yourself have a beautiful life. You deserve it." Chuck faded away, and the barn fell silent except for the ragged breathing of the Winchesters.

 

After a few minutes, Sophie broke the silence. "I can’t believe I just met God. This is the weirdest family ever.” A tiny smile crossed her lips before she frowned again. “C'mon, guys, we should get on the road." She turned toward Castiel's body and inhaled sharply. "Holy shit! Cas!" She ran toward her friend, who was standing with his trench coat and suit coat slung over his forearm, his shirt and tie loosened and slightly askew. He grinned brightly at her as she threw herself into his arms. "Sorry about the holy shit, but I am so happy to see you!" Her voice was muffled by the crook of his neck. Soon Sam and Mary joined the embrace, and he greeted them just as fondly.

 

Dean was thrilled and terrified to see his best friend. What did it mean that Cas was here? When he finished greeting the others, Cas captured Dean's eyes and gave him a soft smile. Dean tried to return it, but the thoughts and emotions warring in his mind made the smile look more like a worry line across his face. There was so much he wanted to say. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get – or take – the chance, or whether he should even bother now.

 

"So, I guess this is goodbye?" Dean finally said.

 

Cas squinted at him with confusion. "Goodbye? Are you going somewhere?"

 

Now it was Dean's turn to look confused. "Uh, no, not me, genius. You. You know, promotion, new assignment? Spoke with Chuck."

 

The confusion left his face then and was replaced with warmth and fondness. "Yes, I have a new job. Does that mean goodbye?"

 

For a moment, he doubted. What did Cas mean by that? But he said, "Uh, yeah?"

 

Cas smiled and shook his head. "Dean, did you get my note?" Dean frowned and lifted an eyebrow. "Jacket pocket."

 

Dean dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. A little thrill of hope surged through him. He skipped the Enochian and read:

 

_Dean – I have a few things I have to attend to. I'll be right back. XOXO Cas (Sophie finally told me what those mean.)_

 

Dean looked up at Cas, who had approached him while he was reading. Cas lifted Dean’s chin between his thumb and index finger. "Do you really think I'd leave you? After all this effort to keep you? I said I would always come back to you." He quirked an eyebrow and smiled his special Dean-smile at him. "I told God the only way I would take a new assignment is if I could stay with you. I'll be – what do humans call it? – 'commuting' between Heaven and Earth as the liaison between humans and angels. I'll be working with both sides to help everyone learn how to work together for continued peace and unity."

 

Dean stared dumbly back at him, feeling unworthy to hope for anything. Cas sensed his fear.

 

"Dean," he said softly, "you are my beloved. My light-mate."

 

And there it was. Confirmation of everything that others told him, of his own questions, of the kiss, of Cas' love. He could have anyone, but Cas chose him, Dean Winchester. There was no way he deserved this. He couldn't live up to it, to what Cas deserved. It scared the hell out of him.

 

"Cas," he said hesitantly, "I, uh... I'm not... you know...."

 

Cas waited patiently, the smile never leaving his face. He had expected fear and doubt. “Not…?”

 

Dean looked down and sighed. "You know, Cas. I'm not... good at relationships."

 

Cas smiled sweetly. "You are selective about who you trust and who you allow into your life. You share your vulnerability with very few. Sometimes you are afraid, but you are fiercely devoted to the people who are lucky enough to be loved by you."

 

Dean furrowed his brows. That was not what he expected, exactly. He tried again to convince Cas of his error in judgment.

 

"I'm a killer."

 

"You have protected others and eliminated threats to others' safety."

 

He wasn't getting this. "I don't do feelings."

 

"You've rarely felt comfortable expressing your feelings for fear of being rejected or otherwise uncared for or neglected. But I have seen many emotions from you. You are capable."

 

"Cas, I enjoyed torturing people in Hell."

 

Castiel shook his head. "Just like when we parted in Purgatory, your mind made you believe something that simply wasn't true. I've looked into your soul and seen your dreams. You hated the torture so much, and felt so weak, that you convinced yourself it was pleasurable rather than feel desperate and helpless. You have rarely allowed yourself to be weak and human. You have always tried to be strong."

 

Dean let that sink in. Perhaps Cas was right about that. Still, he wasn't getting it. Dean tried the more mundane.

 

"I'm gluttonous. That's one of the seven deadly sins."

 

"You are enthusiastic but never take more than your share. In fact, you rarely take all that you truly need."

 

"I snore."

 

"I don't sleep."

 

"I've made a lot of bad choices."

 

Cas chuckled. "So have I. But we keep learning from them."

 

_Would he ever give up?_

 

"I make bad jokes."

 

"You always try to lighten the mood and make others feel good."

 

"I'll probably die because of something stupid."

 

"I will treasure the time I have with you."

 

Not knowing what else to say, Dean said weakly, "I... hate vegetables?"

 

Castiel laughed. "You know what you like and enjoy simple pleasures.” He paused, then added, “You did forget something, though."

 

_Ah, here it was._ "What's that?"

 

"You are stubborn. Very stubborn." He broke into a wide grin. "Although I would say you are passionate, loyal, and steadfast. And I am very patient, as I’ve said."

 

Dean smiled and looked down as he shook his head. Cas really wasn't going to let him put himself down, wasn’t going to reject him. It felt... really good.

 

"Dean," he said after a moment, "I am in love with you, and I will be in love with you no matter how you try to convince me otherwise. I understand that maybe you don't feel the same. Maybe you want to remain friends. Maybe you want me in a different vessel you find more attractive. Maybe you are uncomfortable having me around at all, knowing my feelings for you. I can adapt to those things. But there are two things I cannot do – I cannot stop loving you, and I cannot choose for you. I want you to have the freedom to choose. That's what love gives. If you don't choose me, I will accept that. But I will always choose you."

 

Castiel was so close to him now, just a breath away. He was powerful and mesmerizing. Cas could remind Dean of everything he'd sacrificed for him, convince him that he'd be much better off with him than without him, tell him anything he knew Dean needed to hear. But he didn't. He simply trusted him with the choice. Even if Dean had a history of making poor choices. Even if that choice could ruin them both.

 

_Nothing will change if you never choose…_

"Cas..."

 


	32. Epilogue

_8 years later_

 

Sunday dinner was a mandatory affair at Mary Winchester's house. At least once a month, her boys had to make an appearance at their mother's little blue house in Smith Center.

 

Sam called him earlier to remind him and again later to ask him to bring a "healthy" dessert since the kids were going to be there. Phooey to that. He pulled apple and pecan pies out of the fridge. Apples are healthy. No nephews of his are going to be deprived of pie.

 

The bunker was so quiet at night. Dean looked around, making sure nothing was out of place, before he flicked the lights off in the kitchen. He grabbed his jacket, thrown lazily by the door. No one was around to care whether he had hung it or not. He closed the door behind him and gave his phone a quick glance. He answered the text message – _on my way_ – before pulling Baby out onto the road.

 

Mary's place was about twenty minutes away, giving Dean time to think about the past week and the week ahead. He hadn't seen much of Sam all week. Maybe they'd grab a beer one night if nothing came up. Work and the wife and rugrats kept him pretty busy, so they didn't get a lot of time to hang out casually. Not like they used to. He was truly happy for Sam, though. Sam had the life he wanted – wife, kids, and work with a legit paycheck that indulged his inner nerd.

 

The house was warm and inviting when he arrived. He kissed his mom in greeting and set the pies on the counter. He was pulling the salad out of the fridge when Sam, Sophie, and their kids, six-year-old Noah and four-year-old Haydn, arrived. Dean picked up each of the boys and hung them upside down in greeting as they squealed in delight. He plunked them down unceremoniously. They eyed the living room, then looked back at him. "Yeah, get out of here," he said. They squealed again as they ran out.

 

A few minutes later, Mary declared that dinner was ready, and Sophie called the boys. They responded with high-pitched growling and howling.

 

"What's happening in there?" Dean called loudly.

 

The boys were thrashing and chomping as they were carried into the kitchen. "Bad news," Cas rumbled in mock seriousness as he appeared in the doorway, "the house is infested with werewolves."

 

Dean walked over and held out his arms, and their rings clinked together softly as Dean took Haydn from him. "Not again. Well, you remember how we cure werewolves, right?" Cas nodded solemnly. "Of course," he replied. They held each other's gazes for a moment, then simultaneously started tickling their nephews' bellies and sides. The boys' laughter filled the modest kitchen, and soon everyone joined in. Cas and Dean finally relented and plopped them into their seats.

 

"You're going to make them all hyper, you guys," Sophie scolded gently. "They have school tomorrow, and I need to be able to get them to sleep on time." Despite her words, her affection was obvious.

 

“We play this all the time, Soph,” Dean said. “They’ll be fine.”

 

"If you’d like, I could..." Castiel said as he slowly raised two fingers and looked at her.

 

"Don't you dare, Cas!" she said as she swatted his hand away. "I don't want my boys zapped to sleep."

 

"I assure you it doesn't harm them at all."

 

"How do you... do you zap my children to sleep when they spend the night at your house?"

 

Cas looked, panicked, at Dean. "Of course not!" they said together.

 

"I'm so sure. It’s probably your idea, too, Dean!"

 

"We are offended! Aren't we, Cas?" He nudged Cas' elbow as he took his hand.

 

"Very offended," he said solemnly, but humor danced in his eyes.

 

"You're terrible liars," she declared. "Sam, tell them not to zap our kids to sleep."

 

"Uh, yeah, don't do that," he said half-heartedly. When she turned her attention to Noah, Sam looked at Dean and shrugged, his hand gesturing "whatever." Dean smirked at him as he squeezed Cas' hand tighter.

 

The conversation turned to other topics, and Dean found his opening to speak quietly to Cas. "So, how was your day?"

 

"Wonderful. I worked on humanitarian relief in Uganda."

 

"Sounds awesome, babe," he smiled. He pulled Cas' hand down to his own knee and rested it there, clasping it lightly. Cas leaned on the table and rested his head in his other hand, smiling at Dean warmly. "Tell me about your day," he murmured.

 

"Well, I mowed the lawn, drew up some plans to replace the boys' swing set in the backyard, stopped at the bunker before I came here to work on the upgrade to the shooting range, and, oh yeah..." he leaned forward to speak to Cas confidentially and raised an eyebrow, "mulched the flower beds for someone who keeps forgetting to do it himself."

 

Cas' eyes lit up. "Thank you, Dean," he said gratefully. He paused and carded his fingers through Dean's hair. "Hmm. I think a good deed like that deserves a handsome reward…."

 

"I think I'm looking at my handsome reward," Dean leered as he leaned even closer.

 

"Is that so?" Cas purred.

 

"Mhmm... hey!" Dean barked as a crescent roll hit him in the head.

 

"You've been married six years, you're not newlyweds anymore. Quit making the rest of us look bad," Sam grumbled good-naturedly.

 

For the rest of dinner they discussed their schedules for the week and the latest hunts coming over the scanner. The events with Marou and Jesse didn’t stay quiet, and now Earth was much more aware of all things supernatural. This had its pros and cons. Because Sam and Dean were widely acknowledged as experts in the American hunting community, they were hired and funded by the United States government to organize, train, and sustain an elite force of supernatural hunters, intelligence, and peacekeepers. (Happily, Carwyn had erased any evidence or memory of all the times they'd been wanted by that same government.) The Winchesters' only condition was that they be allowed to do it their way, no questions and no red tape. Surprisingly, their condition was met. The Feds were too out of their element not to agree.

 

Castiel fit in perfectly with their work – or, rather, they fit in with his, since his work was more on a multiversal scale. Dean knew – they all knew – that Cas did some pretty important things that most humans would have trouble comprehending. But Cas was still just Cas – strong, badass, and full of intelligence and wisdom that only a being of his stature could understand, and yet dorky, unassuming, and humble. Most of his work happened away from the bunker, which had been turned into their headquarters and training center, so Dean didn't see him a lot during the day, but that was okay. He always came home to their little white house with the gardens and the kitchen Dean remodeled and the piano where Cas sits barefoot and plays sappy love songs and rock classics for Dean.

 

"So this one's a bit tricky," Mary said. "They'd like to have a couple of us there. Shapeshifters. Minneapolis."

 

Sam frowned. "Why wasn't that dispatched to Mario? Or Ann? They're both closer."

 

"They called Mario, but he's down with stomach flu. Wife wouldn't even put him on the phone. Ann's in Arizona for her sister's wedding. The shifters are working together apparently. Dispatch thinks they need someone with experience. It won't be a rookie job."

 

"Huh. Might be fun," Dean shrugged, though he wasn't fooling Castiel. They didn't go on calls nearly as much anymore, and when they did, they rotated it between them so no one was gone from operations or family for too long. Dean missed it sometimes.

 

Cas saw his husband's masked eagerness and mused aloud, "It's been beautiful weather lately. Nice for a drive.” He glanced at Sam before he turned his focus on a spot in the wall. "Might be nice for the two of you to get away from here for a bit. Keep your instincts sharp." He knew Sam, for all of his bluster about loving his research and intelligence work and his love of his family, sometimes missed the hunt too.

 

"Uh, I don't know if I can," Sam started regretfully, "with Sophie's work schedule the next couple of days. She has early mornings..."

 

Sophie and Cas exchanged a quick glance. "Oh, Cas volunteered to take the kids to school if we ever needed it," she said casually.

 

"Of course. I love spending time with my nephews," he shrugged casually in return.

 

"Yes! Yes! Are you gonna take us to school, Uncle Cas?" Noah asked excitedly.

 

"I think so?" He cast a questioning look at Sam, who nodded. "Yes, I think it's settled."

 

The little boys wiggled in their seats happily. The older Winchester siblings looked excited, too.

 

Pie was enjoyed by everyone before the evening ended. Sophie helped Mary put the last of the leftovers in containers for them to take home while Sam went to grab the duffel bag of clothes and supplies he always kept in the trunk, just in case. Dean had a similar one already in the trunk of the Impala. Dean and Cas each picked up one of their nephews and headed into the hall to take them outside to their car seats. They passed a square of four wedding portraits of Dean and Sam with their new spouses. The kids always made them pause to look at them. It was their little ritual.

 

"Mommy was so pretty," Noah said as he touched the photo of Sophie and Sam. He was right. She was radiant, a picture-perfect bride. "And funny," he cackled as he touched the one below it, a candid of Sophie and Sam making silly faces at each other.

 

"She is very silly," Dean agreed as he blew a raspberry into Noah's neck.

 

"Why are you guys wet?" Haydn asked in a small, giggly voice as he pointed at one of the photos of Dean and Cas. It was the question he asked every time they passed it. Castiel answered him patiently, telling him like it was the first time instead of the twenty-first.

 

"We are wet because I pushed Uncle Dean in the water, then I jumped in after him."

 

"But why is he in his _fancy_ stuff?" he asked and rolled his eyes like Cas was the silliest person in the world.

 

"Because we looked like penguins, so I thought we should swim like penguins.” He poked him playfully on the nose and peeked at Dean with a twinkle in his eyes.

 

"Yeah, your uncle thinks he's a funny guy." Dean pretended to be perturbed, but he loved remembering that moment when Cas spontaneously pushed him into the lake, tux and all, then dove in after him. The photographer captured them just after Cas had surfaced and run his fingers through his dark mop. His hair was sticking out in all directions and water was dripping off his eyelashes, and he was laughing, big and bright, right along with Dean. It was Dean's favorite photo.

 

"You look like you're gonna kiss. Did you kiss?" Haydn continued, having switched his focus to the lower photo of Dean and Cas. It was a candid taken by the bonfire that evening, during the barbecue reception they had right on the beach. The spouses were sitting in shorts and t-shirts, pressed together hip to shoulder casually, smiling and staring at each other. The sky had just started to turn dusky, and the fire's glow made Dean look relaxed, timeless, and absolutely perfect – which, in Cas' mind, he was. Cas guessed the photographer had captured the very private moment when Dean was telling him he never imagined his life could be this good, and Cas was agreeing with his new husband.

 

"I don't know if we kissed. We might've kissed. I don't remember," he said, knowing full well they had left shortly thereafter to begin their honeymoon, where they did most certainly kiss. "Probably."

 

"Yeah, probably. You kiss a lot," Haydn dropped his head back and put his hand over his eyes.

 

"Yeah, pretty gross when grown-ups kiss all the time, isn't it?" Dean laughed as he kissed Cas' temple. Their nephews groaned "Eww!" in response.

 

"Okay, little ones, time to say goodbye to Dad and go home," Sophie said as she approached them. She began to take Haydn from Cas but both boys started whining, "No! We want Uncle Cas to take us out!" He smiled at their usual request.

 

"You've created a monster, you know," she smiled as she relented and walked out the door.

 

"Okay, cool angel uncle," Dean said as he handed Noah over. He knew the boys loved the "flying game," in which Cas would fly them instantaneously to wherever they needed to go, even if it was just the minivan parked outside. He had a feeling that's how the walk to school would turn out tomorrow. Cas and the boys disappeared, and Dean said goodbye to his mother before stepping into the warm, early June evening. He waited at the Impala and watched Sam kiss Sophie and the boys goodbye, then turned his attention to Cas. He was walking toward him, and Dean never got sick of watching that. Walking toward was always better than walking away. He grinned as Cas stood in front of him.

 

Dean said, "Sounds like a pretty straightforward job. Including drive time, I should be back in three, four days tops."

 

"Okay," Cas nodded. "I'll see you in about six to eight days, then."

 

"Hey, what are you saying?" Dean scowled in response to Castiel's joking.

 

"It just always seems to take longer than you say. Maybe you're getting old," he teased.

 

"Complications, Cas! Things come up!" he defended.

 

"Have a safe trip, Dean," Cas smiled at him.

 

"Yeah, yeah," he said as he placed his hand out, palm up. He waited for Cas to take his hand to pull him in for a hug. Cas looked at his hand, then at him, and slapped his hand.

 

"High five," Cas deadpanned, then smiled mischievously.

 

"Yeah, that never gets old,” Dean grumbled with affection. He wasn’t sure how that mistake from long ago had turned into a joke on Dean. If anything, it should’ve embarrassed Cas. He was the one who’d misinterpreted. Over the years, though, his husband had managed to turn it into a way to tease Dean. Dean fell for it every time, mostly because he didn’t really mind. He would never get tired of making Cas laugh.

 

Castiel chuckled and raised his hand. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging, Dean.”

 

“Ass," Dean laughed as he tugged Cas into an embrace. He drew back to touch his face, the little lines and dark stubble so familiar now, yet still so desirable. He leaned in to the soft lips that were parted to meet his. He felt the mouth that commanded armies, heard the low growl that terrified enemies, felt the fingers that held the power to heal or kill. It was the same mouth that lit a room when he smiled, the same voice that moaned his name and whispered I love you, the same fingers that touched him in whatever way Dean wanted – tenderly, assertively, slowly, fast and dirty. He tasted the love in their kiss as Cas pulled him closer, felt the warm breeze that still kicked up between them every so often ruffle their hair, and heard Cas' wings flutter and flap wildly. He leered and wiggled his eyebrows at Cas as he broke the kiss.

 

"Made you flutter," he winked and purred proudly.

 

"Mmm. You too," Cas smirked as he pointedly looked at Dean's pants and back up at him with dark eyes. Heat climbed into Dean's face as he licked his lips and shrugged.

 

"What can I say? You make it hard to leave," he said before touching Cas' forehead with his own. Cas smiled and silently wondered whether Dean had been trying to make a bad pun.

 

"Let's go, Dean!" Sam banged on the trunk to make his point.

 

Dean spun around to glare at Sam. "Hey, back off, soccer dad! Just because you have a minivan now doesn't mean you have to beat on my Baby!" Sam rolled his eyes and climbed into the passenger seat. Dean climbed in beside him. The brothers waved goodbye to their families as the engine roared to life.

 

"Ready?" Dean asked as he turned to Sam. He popped in an old Eagles tape.

 

"Yup," his brother smiled, then rolled his eyes. "Dean, what's with the old music? I thought Cas brought you into the twenty-first century."

 

"He's not here, so Eagles it is. You know the rule..."

 

"You don't make Cas follow the rule... whipped much?"

 

"Whipped... says the guy who has to take a salsa class on Wednesday nights... salsa's for eating, Sam..."

 

"Don't think I don't know about yoga, Dean..."

 

"It helps with my Jiu-Jitsu!"

 

"Sure..."

 

"Okay, Bran Flakes..."

 

"Shut up."

 

"You shut up."

 

They quieted for a moment, then laughed as they drove down the road. Lots of things had changed, but some remained the same.

 


End file.
